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mosswillow · 4 years

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Jumping In (Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ adult content!!, Kidnapping, smut, Dark fic, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, yandere.

Summary: You submit your application to the Avengers as a joke. You’re nowhere near qualified enough for the job. So why do they want you?

AN: A big thanks to @rayofdawnworld for commenting on “Your Room” that they wanted to know about the other Avengers. This one is (obviously) Steve and is happening chronologically before “Your Room.” You can read it by itself though! I also have a story forming for Bucky in my mind so I’ll probably do him next.

You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life but you’ve always managed to get yourself out of it. It’s opened up opportunities for you and taken you all over the world. You put in the application for SHIELD almost as a joke, thinking there’s no way they would ever hire you, especially not to work with the Avengers.

The joke becomes serious when you get a call from Stark Tower offering you a job. You skim over the contract eagerly and sign it immediately, jumping on the opportunity to work your dream job.

After a whirlwind week you find yourself standing in the middle of a high tech training room surrounded by Avengers. Being around a group of people as powerful as the Avengers is intimidating to say the least. The contrast between you and them is stark and you feel your confidence slip trying to keep up with them. They all assure you that you’re doing great and they’re glad to have you with them. It feels like a little family and you get pulled in immediately. You find yourself gravitating to Steve, or maybe he gravitates towards you. He shows up everywhere you go, at the water fountain filling up his bottle, running at the treadmill next to you, stretching on the mat. He watches you spar with different Avengers, giving advice and words of encouragement.

“Keep that arm up Y/N.”

“I will, thank you captain.”

“Call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You smile.

You spar with Bucky and try to ignore Steve's looks. You don’t know if you feel flattered or uncomfortable with the attention he’s giving you. You decide that he’s probably just trying to be friendly since it’s your first day.

It doesn’t stop though and you constantly find yourself in situations with Steve. He’s in the elevator with you or walking by your room as you’re leaving. You even bump into him at the grocery store.

A week later you open your door to see Steve waiting for you just outside your room. Your heart does a flip at the sight of him standing in front of you. His hair is damp and you try to control your mind from imagining him in the shower. His tight white shirt shows off his muscles, which doesn't help your wandering mind one bit. You shift your eyes away from him and chastise yourself. God, He smells good and you wonder what soap he uses. He gives a cocky half smile and takes a step toward you.

“Good job yesterday.” He says, moving in front of your line of sight.

“Thanks.” you smile and force yourself to look him in the eyes.

He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet looking nervous.

“I thought I could treat you to coffee?”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. Is he asking you on a date? Steve Rogers asking YOU on a date? It can't be that. The flirting has to be in your head.

“I’d like that,” You mirror him, putting your hands in your pockets. You realize too late that you don’t have pockets though and end up awkwardly rubbing your hands against your sides. Steve lets out a chuckle and you cross your arms and laugh along with him.

You follow Steve to a nearby coffee shop and he orders you a drink. The two of you sit at a semi-private table in the back next to some barely cognizant university students who are furiously typing away on their laptops.

“How are you enjoying being part of the team?” Steve asks.

“I love it! Everyone is really nice.”

“Are you nervous for your first first mission?”

“A little bit,” you confess.

“I’ll be there with you, don’t worry.”

That was definitely flirting, you think. Captain America is flirting with you.

You smile and take a sip of your coffee. This is like a romance novel, a cute coffee date with a literal super hero. It comes to an end though when you notice a kid taking a picture of the two of you. Steve frowns and cocks his head towards the prepubescent photographer.

“I think we should head back before we get more fans.” Steve Says.

Steve does a silly pose for the kid as he passes by and pulls out a signed Captain America card. The kid stands stunned looking at you as you walk out of the shop. Steve puts his hand on your back and leans in.

“Sorry this was so short. We’ll have to go somewhere more private next time.”

“Don’t apologize! The coffee was amazing, thank you so much.”

It only takes twenty minutes for you to start getting phone calls. A picture of you and Steve is all over the internet. It looks very incriminating, Steve's arm on your back and him smiling close to your ear. You answer your phone and hold it away from your ear as your friend Amy yells at you from the other end.

“Captain America!” She screams over and over again.

“Are you guys dating now or...”

“No, he was just being nice.”

“The picture looks like he’s being a lot more than nice. Please hit that Y/N, if you don’t I’ll scream.”

“You’re already screaming.” you say with a laugh.

“Seriously though, I want to be invited to your wedding one day.”

“Amy! he’s hot for sure but he’s also kinda my boss and I’m not ready for anything serious right now.” The picture of you and Steve is still in your mind. You can barely take care of yourself and certainly aren’t ready for everything involved with dating Steve Rogers.

You hang up the phone and smile to yourself. You can’t believe how your life has changed so fast. One day you’re working security at a hotel and the next you’re working with the avengers and flirting with Captain America.

---

You shake your foot nervously on the way to your first mission. Your role is simple, in fact it's almost impossible to mess up. You’re nervous anyway though. Everyone tells you it’s normal for your first mission and you take deep breaths trying to calm down.

You exit the jet and make your way into town. Your only job is to distract your mark for five minutes. You check your watch and start your way toward your mark.

“Excuse me sir?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know a good breakfast place around here?”

It’s beyond easy. You keep the conversation up for five minutes and end it quickly. Steve gives you a pat on the back after, congratulating your successful first mission. It feels off. Anyone could do what you did. You’re nowhere near as skilled as the Avengers and don’t understand why you would be picked for the job.

“What’s wrong doll?”

“I just don’t feel like I’m really good enough to be part of this team I guess.”

“You’re more than good enough.”

“But you guys are so much stronger... and faster... and smarter.”

“We look for more than those things when picking recruits. Trust me, you’re exactly what I… We need.”

You feel a little better and push away your doubts.

---

The missions become harder after the first one but you’re still never put in direct danger. They say you need more training before taking on more dangerous roles and you agree. You’re not sure if you’ll ever improve enough though and it makes you guilty, like you’re taking up space in a team that someone else could have. As you start becoming more part of the group Steve starts coming onto you more. He takes you out several times and starts becoming more physically affectionate. You like Steve. Aside from being gorgeous he’s old school, bringing you flowers and opening doors. There’s Something about him that feels disingenuous and your gut prevents you from starting a serious relationship.

You meet a barista at the same coffee shop Steve took you to. He’s cute and you decide to give him your number impulsively. He texts you that evening and you stay up late texting back and forth. The next day everyone stares at you as you stretch before your training. You’re not sure why until you notice Steve standing outside of his office.

“Y/N, can I see you in here please.” His voice is an octave lower than usual and a chill runs down your spine.

“Of course.”

Steve closes the door and motions for you to sit down.

“I’m aware that you’ve exchanged numbers with someone who is unapproved.”

You nod slowly, confused how he knows at all and why it’s a big deal.

“This is a huge security risk.”

“I already ran a background check on him.”

Steve sits on the edge on his desk and caresses your cheek.

“Why do you want to talk to this boy when you have me?”

You push his hand away.

“I mean, I like you Steve but I’m just not ready for the commitment yet, you know that.”

His eyes narrow and he looks at the hand you pushed away.

“I understand.” He says.

You stand to leave and he calls after you.

“Oh, and remember you have a curfew. I don’t want to have to reprimand you.”

Steve feels different, unhinged. You’ve only been late a few times and only by a few minutes. You push away your worry hoping it will get better. He’s probably just not used to feeling rejected. He’ll get over it.

---

“Y/N, don’t you dare enter that building.”

“There are still people inside Steve!”

“It’s too dangerous. Help is on the way, don’t do it.”

You rip the com out of your ear and run into the building. There’s smoke everywhere and you cover your face with your arm. You make fast work of reaching the blocked room, breaking the door in and letting the room of people out. You escort them out of the building and to safety.

“Thank you so much.” A woman says, hugging you.

“No problem.” You smile.

The building starts collapsing in front of your eyes and you watch it burn. You walk back to the jet, coughing and bruised and get checked out as soon as you land.

Steve waits for you outside of medical.

“What were you thinking Agent!”

“Not now Steve.”

“It’s Captain and yes now.”

You sigh.

“I was thinking, Captain, that I needed to get those people out and I was right.”

“And what would have happened if the building had come down on you? Help was coming and you had an order. You’re lucky your lungs are ok with the smoke you inhaled.”

You push Steve out of your way and walk towards your room.

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” you call back.

You reach your room and take a long shower, thinking about everything. As much as you want to fit in with them you just don’t. Something tells you that you need to quit. You need to get out of here and never look back. you decide that you’ll hand in a two week notice tomorrow.

The next morning you wake and dress quickly still feeling the same as the night before. You head to your door and turn the knob but find it locked.

“What the fuck?” you pound on the door but nobody answers. You pick up your phone to call for help. It won’t connect to the internet or call anyone. Your computer is the same way. As the day passes you start feeling more and more uneasy. They have to know by now that something is wrong with you. your voice is raw from yelling for help and your hands bloody and bruised from pounding on the door.

Finally, hours later you hear the click of your door unlocking. You open it to see Steve standing with his arms crossed on the other side.

“I was locked in my room.” you say in a quiet voice.

“I know, I locked you in.”

“What’s wrong with you? That’s insane Steve!”

Adrenaline rushes through your body and you start pacing. Everything is telling you to get out. This is not what you signed up for.

“I quit.” you say defiantly.

Steve rushes toward you, pinning you to the wall. None of your self defence training helps you. He’s so much bigger and stronger, trying to fight is a joke. You know your best bet is to stun him somehow and run but you can barely move.

“You can’t quit doll.” He brushes a hand down your body, giving your butt a squeeze. Your eyes widen in shock.

“I’ll report you.”

“To who?”

You start thinking, your eyes darting back and forth. He slides his hand into the front of your pants and rubs the bulge in his pants against you. your breath hitches and you relax your body a bit. You scream at yourself to do something. The hand in your pants rubs against your clit expertly and it takes everything you have not to let out a moan.

“Ah, I see you’re getting it.”

His finger slides to your entrance and he prods you before submerging his finger. You gasp at the intrusion and realize that he’s barely holding onto you anymore. Your hands grasp his shoulders and you lean against him.

“This would have been much easier if you had followed my plan. You had to go putting yourself in danger.” He chides.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please you’re scaring me Steve.” you say,

“It was going so well but you’re unpredictable, flirting with that barista.”

He pushes his finger in deeper and you whimper.

“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.”

“Get away from me,” you beg.

He grasps your hip painful tight.

“You're my girl now, ok? My girl doesn’t disobey me, especially not on missions.”

He pumps his finger, coating it with slick.

You realize that he won’t listen to reason but you try anyway.

“I’m so sorry you’re right I’m your… your girl, just let me go please.”

He pulls his finger out and gives you a kiss.

“See, there’s a good girl.”

He pulls a ring out of his pocket and places it on your finger. His watch vibrates and he looks at it before kissing you on the cheek.

“We can celebrate tomorrow.” He winks.

He leaves you in the hallway and you back into your room, shaking and crying. You don’t care if he locks you in again. You need to be in a place where you feel somewhat safe and can process everything that just happened. You take the ring off and throw it across the room.

The night is spent curled in your bed crying and the next morning you walk self consciously to the kitchen. Bucky sits at the counter eating cereal and he knits his brow when he sees you.

“Hey, what’s wrong.”

You shake your head.

“You can tell me.” He looks at you with his big kind eyes and you decide to confide in him.

“Steve… assaulted me. He’s out of his mind, saying all sorts of crazy stuff. I don’t know what to do.”

Bucky holds you close.

“You’re his girl Y/N, don’t provoke him and you’ll have a good life.”

You tear yourself away and look at him with disbelief.

“It’s not a secret Y/N and we’re on Steve's side.”

You back away and head straight for the exit hitting Tony on the way

“Woah, what’s the rush?”

“I quit.” you say, tears starting to fall.

“You can’t quit princess, you’re Steve’s.”

Your breaths become shallow and your head starts feeling light.

“How did you think you got the job in the first place Y/N?”

You run to the elevator slamming the button over and over but it won’t let you down.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” Thor walks over.

“She’s having a hard time adjusting to being Steve’s,” Tony answers.

“Let me out.” you yell.

Steve comes out of nowhere catching you in his arms and you throw your head back and duck. He stumbles back. Other Avengers start to gather and you pull your fists up in defense.

“I want to leave.”

“Come with me back to your room doll, it doesn’t have to be this hard.”

You stand your ground and Steve goes into a fighting stance. You don’t even have a chance, he has you trapped in his arms within minutes.

“I don’t understand.”

“We got your application in the mail. As soon as I saw your picture I knew you were the one I’ve been looking for.” he coos.

“Why go through the whole facade?”

“Use your brain Y/N. Everyone knows we’re together. There’s pictures of us everywhere online. You’ve talked to friends and family about our relationship. It won’t look weird when you drop off for a while because of your job and when you come back engaged nobody will blink an eye.”

“No.”

You look at the Avengers, you’re family. None of them do anything to help you. Every single one turns their back and walks away nonchalantly like it’s just another normal day.

Steve drags you to your room and closes the door. He walks over to where you threw your ring grabbing it off the floor, and places it back on your finger.

“This doesn’t come off again,” He says.

You look at the ring and back at Steve over and over trying to make sense of all of it. Steve walks purposefully to the drawer you keep your candles and lights several, placing them around the room.

He backs you into the bed and undresses you slowly and meticulously. He sits back and looks at your naked body, taking his time touching and examining every piece. He grabs your legs and parts them, looking at your pussy and two fingers in.

“So wet for me already.”

You shake your head and he lands a slap on your thigh.

“No.” He commands.

“Be good so I don’t have to punish you. You’ve seen me work, you know what I’m capable of.”

You bite your tongue and force yourself to lie still as he slams his cock into you. You cry out in pain and he rubs your arm and whispers sweet things. He kisses you as he pushes his cock deep into you. He grabs your chin and squeezes until you open up and let his tongue in. you reach out and grab his arms and he pulls at your leg until you hug them around him.

“You can come Y/N.” he whispers

You shake your head.

He reaches between you and pushes against your clit. You fight against it for as long as you can but it becomes too much. An orgasm crashes over you and you flutter around his cock. He thrusts hard enough that you get pushed into the headboard and seconds later he’s coming in you. He smiles down at you, lovingly stroking you face.

“I love you Y/N”

You stay silent and he pulls you into a constricting hug.

“Don’t worry doll, you’ll love me soon.”

You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life. You’ve always been able to get yourself out of it,

but this time.

This time you jumped too far.

#dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!fic #dark!steve rogers x you #dark!avengers

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 4 years

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Secrets | Joshua

Joshua | Secrets

Words | 9,180

Notes | Bodyguard!Joshua, mentions of alcohol, mild cursing. Angst/Fluff;

I’m back-ish with a very rough (I think) piece, mildly edited. I’m excited but nervous to be posting here again and I don’t know how often it will be that I will be posting but.... here’s this; my first svt piece in 8 months. This is a repost since... the tagging system on this site... yeah...

The fake smiles and peach Bellinis, the overdone cologne and extravagant attire, the crystal chandeliers and table decorations all brought a sneer to your face when you assumed nobody was paying close enough attention. The solitude didn’t bother you so much, it was nice to not feel like you were being suffocated for at least ten minutes; ten minutes of breathing to yourself was all you ever asked for. Always being tugged this way and that for photo ops got exhausting. The photo ops weren’t even the most taxing part, it was the fake relationship you had to keep up with one of the most prominent up and coming jewelry designer’s son, who you had happily dated at one point.

Big chunky bracelets, rings that looked too heavy for fingers, necklaces layered to the hills, and earrings that may have ripped anyone’s earlobes open was the type of gaudy jewelry you always had to put on display with a disgusting fake smile while your now-ex-boyfriend dripped with confidence, somehow, that made your skin crawl. Being in his direct vicinity all the time to keep up the image of this perfect shining couple for the sake of jewelry promotions quite frankly made your stomach turn, but the perks may have made it worth it—occasionally.

Some of the more elegant jewelry picks, a lump sum of money, some days wiping that egotistical smirk off his face were a few things that made it all worthwhile since you were frequently the one being interviewed at events about the jewelry line while still not being the heir. That boiled his blood in a way that genuinely turned your lips up in an almost unnoticeable smile. The couth you had to sit there in front of him and take all the questions with such grace—you could feel the way his fingers dug into your hip when he sat with you a bit friendly, but it was all for show. The two of you were business partners now, and that’s really all it boiled down to.

But you’d had your run-in with his less than stellar attitudes, at galas and showcases when he lost his temper with you being a show-stealer, and often forcefully kept you around to keep the cameras on him. That’s when you found Joshua. You’d found him and his specific skillset in a newspaper ad—it was unlike you to read the newspaper but you perused the ad section for job listings, animal adoptions, and all kinds of other things when you came across his blurb:

Full or Part Time Bodyguard. Trained in hand to hand and weapons combat, CPR certified, available for any/all events. To Inquire, call Joshua Hong.

While you had entertained the idea of a bodyguard for a while, it never really became a necessity until the business partnership you had was getting a bit more aggressive. There was little you could do to complain, because leaving was always a viable option, albeit they begged you to stay for publicity purposes—they being the family after hearing of your falling out. But Joshua became a harsher reality as the partnership became most hostile.

When you first saw Joshua at a consultation, he was the last type you’d ever suspect. You wouldn’t say he was far from intimidating looking, but he didn’t radiate a whole ass-kicking like you had expected. He was quieter with soft eyes but very professional. He spoke to you matter-of-factly, laying out all your options and drafting contract ideas in case you wanted to go through with hiring him. You figured it couldn’t hurt to have him around, particularly at events where anything could have gone unnoticed in such a large crowd, especially with the way you were treated.

Bringing Joshua to the table for a showcase rocked the boat a bit. It turned into an escalation by your ‘business partner’ about how it was unnecessary to have a bodyguard and that it would only bring suspicions about your relationship, to which you retaliated, “As if you harshly pulling me around isn’t enough.” His parents could do little to object. You had Joshua there with you, or you were out of the deal, which would bring their publicity and the whole story of a budding couple getting into jewelry design together to a screeching halt and they would undoubtedly lose the following and media support they’d gained because of it.

Joshua became even less favorable by the end of the first confrontation between him and the egomaniac. He was demanding you around at a photo-op, even sternly in front of the photographers—most of which by now were suspicious of the condition of your relationship because really how dare he talk to you like that much less in public—and often grabbed you by the arm and placed you exactly where he wanted you when he wanted you to be there. It was in Joshua’s contract to tolerate minor things like that, but he ground his teeth at just the sight but kept his mouth shut for the duration of the shoot. But when it was finally time to go home, he sure gave a piece of his unsolicited mind.

“Next time, how about you try keeping your hands off,” Joshua commented a bit harshly in the direction of the man who quickly became an enemy.

“Joshua,” you pleaded with him as you were packing your things, but your ex had already turned face to chest Joshua up. He ignored you for a moment, knowing you weren’t in any danger because the only danger to you was currently right in his face.

“I’ll put her where I want, when I want,” was the confident reply.

“Actually, you won’t,” Joshua spat back, eye to eye with the slightly shorter male in front of him. “You will keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mister Hong,” you almost barked, his full name flowing from your lips like a command to a soldier, which was in essence what he was. He choked off the growl in his throat as he turned face to return to you while you finished gathering your things, but not without giving the other man—who looked as if that was a battle he’d won instead of a battle he’d just been saved from—a glare that would make his mother pale. You picked up your bag after Joshua helped your jacket on and you left the building.

He did his best to bite his tongue in situations he knew he should just be quiet and wait for your cue or follow the contract to a T. The first gala was an absolute trip—there were hundreds of people, too many asking too many questions, flashing cameras in your face, people crowding left and right and that same smile on your face even he could tell was fake. But he played the part well—he donned a pressed black suit with a lovely fuchsia carnation pinned on his lapel. The only thing that made him out of place was the clear earpiece he had tapped to the microphone in the clip of your hair. If he was too far to see you, he could at least hear you if there was a problem.

It was obvious enough that it deterred people from asking him questions, or even talking to him really, but he wasn’t the only guard on duty so he spent most of his time playing wallflower, lined up with the others as they observed the gala. It was clear that it was strictly forbidden to interact with you under circumstances not outlined in the contract, by direct request of the family of honor. You figured it was fair, as the whole reason you were there was to portray an image and Joshua wasn’t part of it.

Most gala’s he spent gritting his teeth as he stood tall against the wall, watching the way your partner manhandled you just within the boundaries of the contract until it was finally over when he would follow you close out of the venue and take your hand to step you off the curb to let you fall into the passenger’s seat of his car brought around by valet just to get in and grip the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp and silently take you home, and be paid out on your doorstep—what soon became the routine.

But the routine changed when you grew a little fonder of Joshua when you lingered to leave when you were no longer in need of his services, when sometimes you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car to just sit and process, or to vent, or to just enjoy being in the company of another without the stress of a business agenda. When you finally talked freely about interests outside of this partnership you had with him. When he walked you to your door and had a little more to say, irrelevant to being paid—things as simple as sleep well, or stay safe, or until next time, things other than thank you for your business. When it seemed as though he was growing fonder of you, too.

And then, the door once cracked opened a bit more when a late conversation turned into a disagreement turned into something else.

You knew he’d been disgruntled with the inability to do anything about the situation, with the way the boundaries were teased and tested and Joshua’s investment in you continued to grow beyond the confines of said contract. It brought on a lot of tension between the two of you, as if there hadn’t been tension on car rides home after parties or showcases or reveals or fundraisers—it didn’t really matter, he took you to and from almost every event.

He was quieter than usual, something you tried to ignore as you tended the bruise against your arm from where you’d been grabbed multiple times throughout the night, mostly minding your own business and exchanged your attention between that and the passing of the city outside the car window. The air conditioning was cool on your skin, soothing on your feet from being pressed in heels all night that you’d slightly kicked off in a bit of relief before he finally broke the silence.

“When are you going to let me give him what’s coming?” Joshua asked you, his tone a little urgent, and startled you a little bit in the deep leather bucket seat of his car. “It’s been five months and time and time again you let him tug you around like a rag-doll and only half the time can I see the discomfort on your face, but a hundred percent of the time I can hear it when you grunt or wince or yelp.”

You sighed heavily—this wasn’t particularly a conversation you wanted to have.

“He’s within the contract,” you replied.

“Any malicious touch should be outside the contract,” he growled.

“Well then it’s a good thing you didn’t write it,” you replied as he pulled up to your place, shutting the car off after throwing it into park to walk you up to your door like he always did. You had a bottom floor apartment, which made slipping your heels back on and stepping out of the car less of a battle since you wouldn’t have to climb any stairs. Even though he was a bit put off with you, he still rounded the car to gently take your hand to pull you up from the seat, double-checking to make sure you had everything, and walked you up to your door.

“I wish I had,” he finally replied as you turned the key in the handle to tumble the look to unlock your door. “I wish I had because he would have stopped testing the both of us months ago.”

“That’s not your call to make,” you replied, grabbing the envelope that sat on the table just inside your doorway which already had a predetermined amount enclosed with his name written in fine script across it the same way that it always did. “I hired you to do a specific job, you agreed to adhere to the contract; if you don’t like the contract, we can discontinue this partnership at any time,” you finished.

Part of you couldn’t decide if he hadn’t heard anything you said, or if he was just taking his time to reply, because his gaze was effectively all over your face, refusing to reach up for the envelope. You could see the look in his eyes that generally meant he was thinking, but what came next you almost couldn’t prepare for.

Both his warm hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up towards his just enough for him to gracefully take your lips with his. Your back softly hit the frame of your door as his envelope crumpled in your hand, and you found yourself instinctively leaning up into his mouth while your free hand momentarily cupped the back of his neck before you came to and nudged him away.

“Joshua…” you muttered a tad breathlessly, breaking the kiss. There were a million things that should have been going through your mind at that point, starting with how unprofessional all of this was, continuing with the image you had to maintain and how this whole thing would interfere with that, and finishing with grappling with your feelings that were turning your stomach over like a fish on deck.

One of his hands had slipped away from your face to hold you steady, warm and wide on your hip, but the other continued to tenderly stroke against your cheek while you looked at each other. His envelope was still clutched in your hand against his side, your other hand sliding away from the back of his neck and down his lapel—you could push him away, you should push him away. You wanted to tell him how many problems this would cause, how complicated this just made everything, but somehow all you could think about was the glitter in his eyes, the mint tones of his breath, and the taste of his pomegranate chapstick.

He must have known it wasn’t a good move because he collected the envelope from your hand without much more delay for thought—your door was already open so he didn’t have to wait any longer as he bid you goodnight, reminded you to sleep well, and turned to be on his way. You found his name stuck in the back of your throat, dying to come out, but also dying to stay in. The implications of the situation swirled in your head, and you gave a rickety exhale before finding your feet enough to retreat through your door.

Business continued as usual, Joshua attended with you as usual, but the only difference was that you were getting progressively more infuriated with the way you were being treated as another month passed. The jig had to have been up, the publicity you were gaining from keeping up the relationship lie had to have faded by now, but the numbers didn’t lie. Joshua was still at your side, in the background, observing, wherever he needed to be to ensure his job was done correctly.

You had taken a nasty fall on one of the sets of a photo-op because of an impatient and tugging hand of the typical problem male. Joshua lurched from against the wall as you cursed, the floor hard against your knees, and you stayed on the ground for a moment while your nails clawed against the tile, pushing away the sting. A sweet voice whispered your name, and you knew who it belonged to, along with the hand that was extended in front of you. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up enough to dust your hands against each other, and daintily place one in Joshua’s large and warm one. He slowly lifted you to your feet, wanting to check your knees which were hidden behind a floral maxi-dress.

“Pathetic, can’t even get up on your own,” your ex-boyfriend spat in your direction, and the sigh that left your lips could have been a call from hell itself.

Your gaze turned up slowly, away from the ground, and up to his face like the inferno was ready to take him through the earth’s crust. There was a snarl turning at the corners of your nose, and it was clear as day you’d had it up to your eyeballs. Your hand gripped Joshua’s with all the strength you had, and he could only look at you, waiting for your cue, waiting for you to cut him loose before you brought your free hand up and clapped it against the side of the face of your unruly business partner. It was a sound that rang through the room, and by the sound of the cry that exited just a moment after, you caught him upwards on the jaw and probably snapped his teeth together.

He yelled profanities at you, but the exhaustion of his antics were clear in your eyes. Joshua snarled at him when he attempted to approach, but you almost begged for it.

“Do you want another?” you asked him, a tinge in your voice that startled even Joshua. The blood from your split knee was trickling down your leg at this point, you could feel it go, but your one hand clutched the hand it held unwaveringly.

The way your voice softened when you turned your head to speak to Joshua was like night and day. “My knees are bleeding,” you informed him, feeling them quiver as you continued to stand, bruising imminent. He didn’t hesitate to place your hand against his shoulder to slide around his neck and lift your legs out from under you. Your wicked ex-boyfriend took a step, but Joshua was quick and turned to check.

“Try me,” he growled and waited for an advance that never came before he turned to take you out of the room. One of the photography hands followed the two of you out with a first aid kit but stood aside to let Joshua take care of you. You pulled the dress up past your knees—it was worse than you thought. He requested some water to begin to clean your leg before cleaning the split that was already black and purple and swollen to the hills.

“You must have gone down pretty hard,” he commented, gingerly tending to said wound, but diligently nonetheless to get it cleared away enough to assess. At that point, all you cared about was the bloodstain on the knee of your pretty white dress. The pain was ignorable, your ex was ignorable, Joshua was mostly ignorable, but the pain you felt in your pride from letting him treat you like that which manifested in the stain on your dress was not. You looked at the stain with such disdain as you held it in your hands.

“I’ll get you a new dress,” he muttered after noting the look on your face.

“That’s not the point!” you yelled back harshly. He looked at you calmly, knowing your outburst wasn’t directed at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly and turned his gaze back down to bandage your knee, at least well enough to complete the shoot because he knew you weren’t going to leave without finishing it.

And so you did; the blood on your dress could be edited out, so that posed little concern. What did concern you, however, was the attitudes in the room and how they would shift. From then on, every move was checked with Joshua, both your eyes and your ex-boyfriend’s eyes meeting him if he ever even reached for you. Something in the way you’d whole-hand clapped him and the look on Joshua’s face after the fact—he had to have known at that point that he wasn’t ‘safe’ anymore. It was as if he could see that Joshua had been unclipped from the figurative leash.

You finished the shoot with no further altercations but definitely needed help with some of the positions as your knee was unable to bend certain ways anymore, for the time being. When the shoot was finally over, you stayed on the set couch for a lingering moment as Joshua gathered your things and brought them over to you, but not without clipping shoulders with the trouble-maker himself.

He had your duffel over his shoulder, creasing the jacket of his suit but refused to let you take it when he was able to get you on your feet again. You looked up at him with a scowl, almost as if to say that you could carry it yourself, but he gave you a skeptical look, not skeptical that you could carry it but that you were injured and he would just as well carry it for you.

You paid the photography crew your respects before beginning to hobble out of the set and eventually out of the building. Joshua offered you his arm as a crutch multiple times that you refused, stubbornly, until he’d finally had enough.

“Please take my arm, or I’ll carry you out of here,” he almost threatened as a gave a smile to the man at the security desk while you passed him, who gave you a curious look as you limped. You wanted to growl, but begrudgingly took his arm anyway; admittedly, it relieved some pain. He put your duffel in the back seat once finally arriving at the car and then opened the passenger’s door for you. Gingerly you lifted your damaged leg into the car first before all but falling in after it and let him close the door behind you.

As usual, he turned on the air conditioner a bit high—you needed to cool off after every interaction you had with your ex on any business excursion you needed to attend. You kept your rage entirely inside which boiled your blood and made your face hot and the cool air was quite helpful to bring it all back. Joshua delayed in starting the car for a moment as he looked over to you to make sure you were okay, but you ignored the pain in your knee and looked out the window, waiting for the car to start moving. He sighed, noting the bloodstains on the knee of your dress before finally bringing the car to life to take you home. It was already late into the afternoon, and he knew you’d want time to prepare dinner and shower and other things to relax for the evening, so he didn’t waste any more time.

He took you and your bag up to your front door the way he normally did, only this time with one of your hands wrapped around his arm to steady yourself as you hobbled slowly with your heels in your other hand before you were digging for your keys. Once your door opened, you threw your shoes in and took the duffel bag from him to toss that inside the doorway as well and reached for his envelope on the table, and turned back to him.

Joshua stood tall and respectfully the way he always did, alert with his shoulders square, hands clasps behind his back. Somehow his hair was always immaculate, his suit always pressed with zero hints of wrinkles, too professional; but his eyes looked at you softly, eyes you were looking into deeper and deeper every time you got the chance, eyes that captivated you like nothing else. You clutched the envelope in both your hands, a thought stirring in the back of your throat as you looked up at him.

“Joshua…” you started, trying to get the thought out as the envelope crumpled in your fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, only for you to remind him of your name even though you knew he hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t pay you for this…” you started, crumpling the envelope a little more as you looked down at it, “but I would, if you wanted; I just don’t have any near family and I don’t want to be alone after all that and—”

“I’ll stay, for a bit, if that’s what you need. I’m here to serve you,” he replied, the tenseness in his shoulders dropping a little bit as his hands came forward to cup over yours, stopping you from nervously crinkling his envelope, “And don’t worry about compensating me.”

You weren’t sure how to reply as he finessed the envelope from your hands, setting it back down on the table you always retrieved it from as he walked you slowly back through the doorway of your apartment and kicked his shoes by the door. “Do you mind if I take my coat off?” he asked you, and you were a bit taken aback by the question—he was always dressed professionally, and this was the first time he would be taking his jacket off in front of you. All you could do was nod as you peeled yours off, too, a sweet dark washed cropped jean jacket.

At some point you remember getting him a glass of water, you remember excusing yourself to change so that you could spot treat your dress and assess the damage on your knee yourself as Joshua made himself at home on your couch. It was the first time Joshua would see you in more casual clothes instead of dolled up for some event, but it was fair because you were seeing him cut a little loose too. You remember flipping on the TV to drown out the somewhat awkward silence that loomed between the two of you for a bit, before agreeing on what to order for food. It was still a bit early for dinner, so some mindless TV was in order for a little bit. A part of Joshua had expected something else; maybe some feelings dumping or something similar, but he didn’t mind the fact that you just wanted to relish his company.

That didn’t stop him from consistently looking at you, consistently noting the way your eyes would get a bit glassy before being controlled—you refused to cry in front of him. He wasn’t there to comfort you, that wasn’t his job, and you didn’t want to make it seem like it was. But when you could feel him looking at the side of your face a little too hard, you turned to look at him with the intention of asking if he wanted to order food, but ended up getting trapped in his eyes again.

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat, meeting his gaze, but he didn’t seem surprised. His eyebrows rose for a split second, hardly even noticed as he looked back at you—your eyes were still a bit glassy from the forced back tears. He wouldn’t dare ask you to speak, much less speak about what was on your mind; he had unclear instructions of what he was there for, but it took everything in him to just sit there and say nothing, do nothing.

He took a leap, and reached over to retrieve your hand closest to him, which happened to be your left hand, and cupped it in both of his.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through; I can’t even begin to imagine how hard and taxing it is, how unbreakable your resolve has been, how strong you have been, but I know that you are. I know that you are gracious and kind and patient. I know that you are so much than I get to see, so much more than anything he’d ever deserve.”

It was meant to be comforting, to be encouraging, and it was. Somehow, your fingers threaded between his and squeezed, trying to stave the tears that he had inadvertently pushed up to your waterline, and to avoid having him see them fall, you finally turned your face away from his.

“I’m going to order dinner, what would you like?” you asked, voice cracking a little as you quickly stood from the couch to the dismay of your injured knee as your hand left his. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to dab under your eyes, trying to save the makeup you had left. Vaguely, you heard him say something about getting whatever—he would eat whatever you ordered for him—and pulled out the small book of menus from nearby places.

Joshua sat on the couch, the lack of your hand between his somehow more intense when he knew you needed some comfort as he listened to you flip through some pages and eventually dial a number to place an order. He didn’t expect you to return immediately, or even within a reasonable amount of time, which was good because you didn’t. You continued to stand in the kitchen and grip the counter, pushing your tears back and back and back while trying not to agitate your leg too much; the burn was real from your rush to get up, so you stood on the leg that was still good and bent the other to give it a rest.

Eventually, he was going to have to check on you. He spent plenty of time glancing over to the kitchen to see if you were emerging yet, but it didn’t happen to be the case, so before too long he pushed himself up from the couch as he quietly cooed your name. You had just been rounding the corner out of the kitchen and he’d caught you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own feet and crash right into him. His anticipatory hands were able to catch you, for the most part, one able to catch your elbow while the other controlled your fall into his body. Your hands were a little more unceremonious, one furling in the fabric of his white dress shirt and the other grabbing onto his bicep while you crash-landed into his chest, staggering him a bit.

It was the first time you were really getting a lungful of his fragrance, swirling around you like phantom chains. The first time you were really feeling the solidity of his body and how protective it was capable of being. The first time you were really feeling the largeness of his hands as he steadied your balance by hulling you up against him to set you fully back on your own feet, the second time his wide palm was placed against your hip, which brought back many memories of the first time just outside your front door. He could have been able to hear the way you swallowed, looking right at his throat, adorned with a perfectly knotted tie and a finely pressed shirt collar.

And for a moment, you stood there with complete silence looming between the two of you while your hands found a more comfortable place to rest which happened to be right on the curve of his chest while the other continued to hold his bicep. It was always hard to see under his immaculate jackets, but now that it was just his dress shirt and an undershirt, you could see the way your hands curved against him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally spoke, throat shifting particularly with how low he was trying to keep his voice, his bicep flexing under your hand as his hands slid a little further around you.

“Thank you for catching me,” you replied, “so I didn’t have to fall in front of you, again.”

For some reason, that hit him painfully. He couldn’t decide if it was because he felt guilty for making you feel embarrassed about what had happened in front of him, or because he felt guilty for not being able to prevent it in the first place. Although it felt like a sting, he was fully aware that you were making no effort to move from his grasp which was still settled somewhat around your waist until you had decided it was long enough and shuffled out of his grasp.

Joshua never dared pry about what was on your mind, even as he continued to watch you push tears away. At one point, you did close the gap between the two of you on the couch and sat with him, hip to hip, at least until your food arrived. You ate quietly, really just relishing each other’s presence outside of business hours, and sometimes caught him looking at you a little too long which he would dismiss with a soft smile. But dinner was quick, and you were cleaning up almost as soon as you sat down, it felt. And the sooner you were done with dinner, you feared, the sooner he would leave and that just wasn’t a thought you were ready to deal with yet. You had been grappling with saying something, giving him anything about what was going on with you—he already had a pretty good idea and made that very apparent, but you got nervous and pulled away.

You cleaned up in the kitchen quickly and grabbed Joshua’s empty glass to refresh it after he insisted the water was perfectly fine, before joining him on the couch again. This time you’d switched over the TV to just play music which was also perfectly fine because it seemed to ease the tension that was bubbling between the two of you.

“You know, I know we’re not that close, and I know you hired me, but if there’s anything you want to say, or if there’s anything you want me to do—”

“Does that anything include hauling a body away?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood since it had been a little dark since you first invited him in. He seemed to find amusement in your joke because he chuckled.

“I just want you to feel comfortable with me, like you don’t have to tiptoe around me or like you can’t experience emotions in front of me—I couldn’t even detect a semblance of pain on your face earlier although I know it hurt,” he reminded you.

“I do feel comfortable with you,” you replied, driving the point home by subconsciously leaning over to cozy up to him, resting your head against his shoulder as you were already sitting hip to him. He seemed a bit shocked, jarring for only a moment before relaxing into the way you pressed against him. “If I didn’t, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

“Ouch, so expendable,” he jested, resisting settling an arm around your shoulder. He knew from the last time that there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even if you were crossing one right now. It was on you what to do, but he couldn’t just take a moment of physical contact as the go-ahead, especially as you pulled away.

“You’re off the clock; you don’t have to be so alert,” you finally added.

“It’s in my nature,” he replied quietly, his gaze casting from your lap and back up to your face. “I can’t help wanting to jump to your defense, even from the threat that’s in your head.”

“At least that tells me that you take your job very seriously,” you replied just as quietly, your voice fading off a bit at the end as his face neared yours a bit more.

“You asked me to come in because you didn’t want to be alone; I think that warrants attention,” he answered. He had a point, but somewhere in the feeling of his warm breath against your cheeks, that point was lost. You knew what was coming, but somehow didn’t have the mind to stop it, or the want to stop it from happening. Your fingers furled into the upholstery of your couch as he came into your space.

“Joshu—” you tried, but the tender way his lips touched against yours cut that off. There was a familiar touch of his fingertips against the cut of your jaw while his mouth gently slanted against yours. The sigh that exhaled through his nose was exacerbated as one of your somewhat panicked hands took a grip of his tie and tugged, encouraging him to tilt your jaw to his will as he readjusted the kiss.

He broke the kiss for a moment to gauge you, a little too in the moment to remember the first time this happened and what a mistake it was; somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the implications, he knew the conditions of your contract with the jewelry gig, he knew the media was keeping watch on your fake relationship, and he knew how much this was forbidden, but that only made him want it more. And you must have felt somewhat the same, because you leaned in to tease his bottom lip with your teeth, feeling the exhilaration of the fleeting freedom from that fake relationship against Joshua’s lips; the way the stress of all of that melted away at the taste of that familiar pomegranate chapstick. His breath was warm against your mouth, anticipating your next move but you made it clear you were waiting for him as you hesitated while his lip slipped from the gentle grip of your teeth and, tentatively, he took your bottom lip to swipe his tongue against it to delve into another forbidden lip lock.

Breathless, you gave a deep exhale against his mouth as you’d finally come to your senses. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew the two of you were dancing around this chemistry because you knew it would have to be a secret. You’d had all the forethought in the world after the last time about any time you could catch him away from the crowd how badly you wanted to take the lapel of his coat in your hands and melt into him. The last thing you needed was for rumors to start going around about you and him, but in this very moment, as your lips trailed away from his to kiss against the line of his jaw, you seemed to care not. And you knew you would have continued to kiss down his neck the way you’d thought about more times than you’d like to admit out loud if you didn’t know better. But the way his breath hit the air and the way his head tilted back just a bit just begged for a little more.

“Joshua,” you whispered against the slender column of his neck, or what you could reach that wasn’t covered by his completely buttoned shirt as your lips slid up to his ear, “If you don’t knock it off, next time I might not stop.”

A shiver shot down his spine at just the implications of your words. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was complicated, but now he knew that you felt the same way he did, that you knew he just couldn’t help it. His breath hit the air in a huff, a semblance of a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips but it faded just as quickly as his head came back down to meet gaze with you.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he replied, the glimmer in his eyes like the entire galaxy condensed. You agreed on the conditions of your current situation from a simple look, but you could also tell in each other’s eyes how much that didn’t matter. All that mattered was not getting caught. All that mattered was that it was a secret. Even still, something ate at you about the riskiness.

You stood from the couch for the sole purpose of creating some distance before you completely lost your resolve, although it was still breaking the more you looked at his eyes, the features of his face, the curves and sharpness of his jaw, and his mouth which you were already so acquainted with.

It would be tough, but you knew already quitting Joshua would be harder already, so you both vowed to keep it as down low as possible, and that meant entirely in the ground in public of any kind.

That meant you attended galas and fundraisers with even more disinterest than you had before, and the tugging persisted but now you were being bombarded with questions about your fake relationship—you did your best to remain quiet and let the star of the show answer. You continued to work on designing pieces in the comfort of your apartment and develop them into fine pieces of jewelry and you were still raking in design rights left and right from a company you wanted to break from entirely. It was slowly becoming apparent that no matter what happened between you and Joshua, that company would owe you royalties for your designs, and undoubtedly would ask you to continue designing since you were the top contributor much to your partner’s dismay.

To do your best to avoid suspicion, Joshua often stayed behind at times he would have typically accompanied you. He spent more time playing wallflower than he was used to, especially as you were being bombarded left and right by people who wanted nothing more than your attention than to pick your brain about your designs, but despite the new dynamic of his investment, he was still your bodyguard. And the more he got invested, the more he hated seeing you put in that fake smile in the arms of a man he already detested; but he vowed to keep his word, and keep his word he did.

Some galas, you just couldn’t take it. Joshua always had a watchful eye on you when you were seated even while Mr. Self-Important was wandering about and entertaining guests, trying to butter them up for a sale or investment of some kind. Occasionally, you’d meet eyes with him before finding your way to your feet and began to weave through the crowd. It wasn’t unusual for him to follow you, as it was agreed he would be keeping eyes on you at all costs. You made your way through many hot bodies crammed in a too-small room as he tried to keep track of your head bobbing through the crowd before making it into a back room. Still, he followed the sound of your heels against the ornate tile. He followed you quite some time before leading him onto the balcony of a backroom you doubted anyone would be finding even if they were adventuring on their own.

“What do you think you’re doing, taking off like that?” he asked you a little roughly, trying to figure out exactly what was going through your mind to just get up and storm off as if that wouldn’t gather some attention.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you replied desperately, looking back at him as you exhaled sharply. The look in your eyes was enough, an inextinguishable fire burned in your very soul. He almost melted under that gaze, daring to shuffle towards you. You let the fresh air wash against the skin exposed by your evening gown—it was refreshing, to say the least; but the way Joshua was looking back at you made it hard to distinguish the cool air from the fire in your veins.

You begged to step passed him and return to the gala—being out here with him alone spelled bad news for the secrecy of your intermingling lives because you could tell the more that you looked at him, the more you couldn’t stop the way your gaze flittered down to his lips for only a moment before trying to recompose yourself. But you went to step anyway, not quick enough for his wide hands which strongly took your hips and backed you up against the railing of the balcony.

“Is that why you lead me out here? You had to have known I would follow you,” he asked, a ghost of a whisper in the slight breeze as he leaned down to capture your gaze again, bringing your eyes up to his and you could feel your breath caught in your throat, hands anticipatorily on his forearms through his suit coat.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him this couldn’t happen—not here, not now. The way he continued to step closer to you made the lump bigger and bigger, making it even more difficult to get words out before he was leaned in too close, and only then were you able to squeak anything out.

“It’s dangerous,” you muttered against his mouth, the familiar taste of his pomegranate chapstick and the plush warmth of his lips against yours broke any semblance of control and your hands ruffled through the hair on the back of his head. It was feverish at first, as if you’d been deprived of him for so long before the actuality of his lips against yours, of his hands on your body tugging you into him finally set in and you calmed down; as did your hands which combed his hair back into place before sitting daintily across his broad shoulders until he broke the kiss off, hypocritically trying to remind you that you were still in public but it didn’t stop the way he placed gentle kisses against your forehead as you leaned into him.

His scent, which you had grown so accustomed to, seemed to be amplified in the quiet wind as you took a deep breath through your nose while his forehead found yours—your eyes remained closed, and it was the most serene moment you’d experienced at a gala to that day. Everything felt at ease, everything felt simple, everything felt right.

But in the following days, a different kind of panic was settling into you when your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep with the front page of a magazine with a photo of you and Joshua out on that balcony that night. He was red in the face, demanding an explanation from you about how you could be so careless, essentially informing you that he had already had ideas about you and Joshua but trusted that you wouldn’t blow the work you had going. The thought of being caught had crossed your mind on so many occasions, but late-night talks after late-night talk when he stayed over to calm your nerves, to rub your shoulders and shower you with kisses, you concluded—what were they going to do? What did you care about that fake relationship? What did you care about the publicity of a company you had no investment in other than design rights? Regardless of popularity, you would continue to get royalties from every sale of your designs.

“This is simply absurd; this is the last thing I had anticipated waking up to. This ruins so many things, in fact, it ruins everything! All the publicity we had going for this startup, you so selfishly ruined!” he screamed at you while you stood in the doorway of your apartment. For a moment, you didn’t care. He had screamed at you many times in the past, so you looked at him unfazed.

“I’m sorry, I’m the selfish one? I’m the one who demanded we keep up a fake relationship for a publicity stunt to… what… keep the jewelry line directly in the media at all times? I’m the selfish one?”

“You have gotten every last bit out of my family and this business and then you go and blow it, getting caught like a fool!”

Your knuckles were turning white with the way you were gripping them under your crossed arms as you looked at him. Your blood was boiling.

“I worked my ass off to provide your family with very successful designs for their line! Remind me again who’s the selfish one!” you spat back in his face, the burn on your tongue feeling like actual flames with how irate you were at this point. “And remind me, what have you done, at all? Have you made any contributions to this business other than providing the media a pretty face to look at?”

He pushed his hand against the door of your apartment and stepped towards you, enough for you to take a few steps back and unfold your arms in the case you had to defend yourself. And you would have, but the rumble behind you that was deep enough, menacing enough to open a rift in the earth’s crust came from behind you.

“Get out,” Joshua threatened, having been standing just behind the door to listen to the exchange. He wanted you to give you your space to deal with it on your own—you deserved to deal with it on your own; it was your position, your designs, your royalties, your contributions to defend. He was there, however, to defend your being.

“You! You are at least half the—”

“Get out!” Joshua repeated, taking a step forward before ripping the magazine from shaking fingers. “I don’t think I have to tell you again. Your little charade is done, and the only one who will suffer is you and you alone. Now get out, or I’ll escort you out.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this—”

“I don’t think that’s the route you want to go,” you interjected. “I own those designs; I am owed royalties on every sale of those designs; whether you like it or not, I have a legal cut of this company which is not contingent on how successful our media façade is. So, if I’ll be hearing from your lawyer about Joshua who has a legal and contracted right to remove you from my property, then you’ll be hearing from mine, who will bury you.”

There was a shakiness in your voice, indistinguishable between anger and nerves, as Joshua escorted him out of your home and slammed the door behind him. You stood just beyond the entryway, safe distance within your house to avoid any conflict, but your shoulders heaved. You could hear the heavy deadbolt flip, locking the door tight before Joshua turned around to face you. He gave you some space for just a moment, but he wasn’t too keen on leaving you standing there looking like the very life had been sucked from your bones for too long.

“It’s over,” he cooed to you, “you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Your gaze crossed the flooring to his feet and ran up his legs, up his body to his face. His mouth housed a tender smile, eyes soft as he looked over you, and somewhere deep in there he could see the relief, the surfacing of tension to let it all go, and for a fleeting moment, you granted him a soft smile as well before he wistfully crossed the floor to take you against his chest.

“I’m proud of the way you stood your ground. You’ll never have to stand it alone again.”

It seemed like a slightly inclined battle for the first month or so. You did hear from his lawyer, and he heard from yours, and it was a winning battle in court to discuss your role within the business. You came to an agreement to keep a position, much to the dismay of your now ex-business partner, and continue working on designs with minimal pressure, and that, the final marker of the decisions, was the nail in the coffin for all the tension to finally free from your body. You stood in a mostly empty courtroom in a fine skirt-suit as you awaited the verdict—you were too relieved to cry, but Joshua’s hand squeezing yours almost elicited those tears.

It wasn’t long before you moved in together to settle down.

You spent long nights sometimes in the studio working on big sketchbooks loosely doodling designs across the entire page. A lone lamp that illuminated a desk behind your easel was hardly enough to sustain healthy eyesight, but it never seemed to stop you especially when you were struggling to push sleep away from those eyes. Often, Joshua slipped out of bed to come find you, well into some hours after he’d retired for the night just to sneak into the studio behind you.

He watched the way your hand effortlessly moved across the page, flicking lines down on the paper to craft those rough sketches he knew would eventually turn into fine pieces of jewelry. You had a knack for it, serious vision for jewelry only the elite could afford.

“It’s not light enough in here for your eyes,” he whispered to you, rubbing his hands along your shoulders and upper arms before he’d dig his thumbs in.

“You tell me that every time,” you reminded him quietly, eyes closing to relish the way he pushed some knots away from your shoulders.

His chuckle was smooth in your ears, dripping down your spine like refined syrup before he pulled up a stool behind you and nestle his arms around your waist, leaving you free enough to continue to work on some sketches, but not without some attempts at wooing you to leave them.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispered just behind your ear, only to place a couple of kisses against your neck and nuzzle against your jaw.

“Five more minutes,” you replied, only to feel his arms tighten around you.

“I fell for that too many times; I’m not so naïve anymore,” he reminded you. “They’ll be here for you another day.”

“And so will you,” you answered.

“Ouch, so expendable,” he teased, knowing that you were teasing, too.

“Joshua,” you whined as he kissed down your neck and across your shoulder, only lightly clothed by a loose-fitting tee that was slouching off to the side anyway. But he wouldn’t stop. Especially not as he got up to flick the lamp off, the only light remaining for vision was the hallway light outside the door, which was enough for him to scoop you from your stool to bring both your legs up around his waist and your arms to dangle over his shoulders. He could feel the sleepiness in your body, but your stubbornness persisted as you protested some more. He carried you from the small studio room and down the hallway to flick the light off with his elbow before he was gently laying you in the cool sheets of the bed you shared with him, sealing off any further words with a couple of sweet kisses against your unsuspecting lips.

Despite all your hawing a few moments prior, the soothing sheets underneath you coupled with the warm body that was settling in next to you settled you quite a bit when he turned you into him and you settled into his shoulder, the same way you did every night.

#joshua hong #seventeen joshua #joshua scenarios #joshua fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #joshua angst #seventeen angst #joshua imagines #seventeen imagines #joshua oneshot #seventeen oneshot

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borhap-au · 4 years

Text

Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

Joe defending your relationship against his family.

Joe was very excited about introducing you to his family. After all, you were his first serious relationship since that unfortunate incident a few years back, that ended in a heartbreak for Joe. You already knew his mom and his siblings, his nieces and nephews loved you.

Before it actually happened, you weren’t sure how Joe’s closest family members would react to you, after all, you were much younger than him. But Joe said they all thought you were a nice girl, and it was “really up to him” who he was dating, after all, it wasn’t their call. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what the rest of his family believed in.

You met them at a big family party. It was unfortunate for you, because you hated family parties, you hated being in a center of attention in a group of strangers, and you hated that Joe was all the time asked to go somewhere, so you were alone most of the time. You were obviously trying to be very nice and kind to whoever you were talking to, trying to show your best side, but also, you were always looking around, hoping to spot Joe and excuse yourself from the conversation. At the party you had the most fun around children, playing with them, because that was the only place you knew for sure you weren’t being judged. Unfortunately, that didn’t really help your case.

When you finally spotted Joe, he was going inside to the house, so you followed him. You thought he was going to be alone, but when you heard his voice in a mix of others, you stopped yourself from going there. You wanted to go back, but then you heard your name. At first you thought someone was calling for you, so you moved a little in the direction of the door, but then you realized, it wasn’t to you. It was about you.

“Come on, guys, just give her a chance. She’s really nice and smart. You will like her,” you heard Joe’s voice and sighed quietly. So all of your effort was for nothing.

“She’s out there playing with the kids, Joey. She’s a child herself. You should find yourself a real woman,” one of his cousins said.

“First of all, she looks younger than she really is. Second of all, she’s not a child. Sure, she’s younger than me, but she’s been an adult for a good few years now, so don’t worry, she is a woman,” Joe didn’t give up fighting for you and it was really sweet in your opinion. Although you didn’t really want him to fight with anyone, especially because of you.

“The age difference is too transparent. What you two even talk about? She’s probably into Justin Bieber and that Miley girl, while you listen to the old classics. Does she even know who Freddie Mercury was? Has she heard of Queen?” another of his cousins said.

“Excuse me, you don’t appreciate her enough. She actually loves old rock n’ roll. She listens to the classics more than I do. Her favorite movie is The Godfather. We have so much to talk about,” he took a breath, probably to drink something, while his female cousin gave her two cents.

“If she loves old things, that would explain why she wants you,” she joked, and the rest of them laughed. You were sure Joe rolled his eyes at that comment.

“Are you her sugar daddy or something, Joey? Is that what it is?” you heard another voice saying.

“No, I am not her sugar daddy. She has a job, she has her own money. She’s not even comfortable with me buying her expensive gifts. She’s not in this relationship for money, don’t insult her like that, Karen,” oh, Karen. Now the comment made sense to you.

“Okay, but what does she even know? Those young kids these days, they don’t appreciate anything. Only social media are on their minds. Facebook, selfies, no culture, no nothing,” you heard one of the older aunts.

“I’m about to prove you wrong. She actually loves literature, she knows a lot about cinema, her hobbies include sports and taking frequent breaks from social media to be around nature. We often go on small trips around the country, she is a great photographer. And she has unbelievable knowledge about history. We don’t only have million topics to talk about, it often is that she talks and I just listen, because she has so many important and fascinating things to say. And she also has very strong views and beliefs, and your old school view on women is definitely something she would disagree with. She’s smart, she’s independent and she’s with me because she loves me. I really do not understand, what is your problem, people,” Joe was actually starting to get mad, and you were mad as well, but even more so because of the fact that they made him mad. You didn’t want anyone putting Joe down because of something, or someone, he loves.

“Well, if she’s not in for the money, then probably for the fame,” you heard that voice before. Apparently Joe didn’t persuade them enough.

“No, none of that. She refuses to go on red carpets with me. She doesn’t even allow me to post anything about her on my social media. She doesn’t want the attention. She wants the relationship to be a private matter, and frankly, that’s what it should be. I shouldn’t even have to explain that to you,” despite all the nasty comments about your alleged motifs, Joe didn’t give up fighting for you, even if that meant going against his family.

“Let’s just all calm down. We spend too much energy on a topic that’s not even worth it. It’s just a whim, he will soon come to his senses,” you weren’t the one to really care about some old woman’s opinion, but that one hurt you. For anyone to assume you were just a quick thing for Joe, it was hurtful and unfair.

“Oh, no. I beg you pardon. I want none of those kind of insinuations. She’s not a doll to throw away when I’m done playing with her. She’s a real person, with a heart and soul and she’s so much more than you give her credit for. You guys are awful, you know? You didn’t even give her a chance! How is she supposed to prove you wrong, when you dismiss anything she says? Stop belittling her. She did nothing to deserve this. I really expected more of you,” he scoffed.

“Come on, she’s not a wife material for you, and most definitely not a mother material. She was a child herself not so long ago,” another person added.

“Once again, you are wrong. She’s most definitely a wife material and I would be more than happy to marry her someday. Don’t be surprised when you get an invitation to our wedding. Or if you don’t get one, if you’re going to continue to act like that,” you smiled hearing that. Becoming Mrs. Mazzello was a dream come true for you, but you had no idea Joe even took that under consideration.

“Before it comes to marriage, Joseph, you will change your mind five times,” another aunt, another wrong statement about Joe. You thought that they not only treated you like a child, but actually also him, not listening to a word he says.

“Maybe, or maybe I already looked for a ring. We’ve been together long enough. Some of you were married after shorter periods of knowing each other,” oh, you could feel that he smiled ironically. And wait, were you supposed to hear that? I mean, you weren’t really supposed to hear any of this… But maybe you just found out about a surprise engagement… One way or another, you were overjoyed.

“But she may change her mind. She may change a lot in the next few years. She’s still growing, discovering herself as a woman. You’re a grown up. That’s the difference. Where you want to settle down, she only starts her journey,” nice quote, but no. You were all about setting for a journey together, helping each other grow, give each other peace and love.

“Actually, I have no plans of holding her back. She can grow and discover herself as much as she wants, whether it’s in the relationship or in a marriage. I want her to find her path, pursue her dream career, become successful and do whatever she wants to do. She’s a woman with big dreams and plans,” Joe said, but was quickly interrupted.

“Yeah, I bet a girl in her 20s wants to stick with one dick for the rest of her life,” one of his cousins said, and you almost threw up in your mouth hearing that.

“First of all, don’t be disgusting, there are ladies in this room, and you’re talking about a lady as well. Second of all, despite of what you’re implying, not every young woman’s dream is to party and change partners all the time. Some actually want to settle down. And she’s one of those women. I know that, because contrary to you, I listen to what she says. She focuses on her career and her relationship, trust me, she’s not missing anything,” some of the guys laughed, but most of the girls acted more tasteful.

“Is it about your former girlfriend, Joe? You try to patch up a broken heart by having a fling with a much younger girl?” oh, wow. You didn’t expect that one.

“I’m long over that relation- whatever that was. I’m not trying to make up for anything here. I met her, I fell in love with her, and now we’re happy together. You really think I would bring a ‘fling’ to a family reunion? For what, to brag? Come on, you know me better than that. And if you really think I would do something like that, then maybe I’m wrong, maybe you don’t know me at all. But I’m not wrong about her. Now excuse me, I’m going to find my girlfriend and I plan to spend the rest of the evening with her. Have a nice party,” you realized you should probably escape quickly so that nobody finds out you were listening to all of the conversation. So you quickly run to the bathroom and then got out of it soon enough so that Joey saw you and knew where you are.

“Oh, hey,” he smiled, and moved his arm around you. “There you are, I was looking for you. How’s the party?” he had an empty whisky glass in his hand. Clearly, the conversation exhausted him. He quickly put the glass away when he saw you looking at it.

“Oh, the kids here are amazing. Your niece won’t let me have a break,” you chuckled quietly, and he smiled.

“That just proves how great of a mommy material you are,” he pointed out as you were walking out of the building together to get some fresh air and get away from people.

“Well, then I’m happy that I was able to find a perfect daddy to match my greatness,” you smiled at him.

“Honey, I told you not to call me that around people,” he joked, and you softly punched him in his chest.

“I’m never complimenting you, ever again,” you pretended to be mad, but soon rested your head on his shoulder, petting the side of his body, as you slowly walked around the garden in perfect harmony and peace.

“What if we stay together until the end of the world? Then you won’t compliment me either?” you smiled slightly hearing that, because you knew what he really was asking you about. He wanted to be reassured that he didn’t fight for you for nothing, that you really wished to be with him forever, or at least you hoped that it would all work out between you and you would still love each other after all those years.

“If you promise me we will be together forever, then maybe I’ll change my mind,” you teased, because even the most serious topics turned into a light-hearted conversations between you two.

“Want to get married someday?” he asked, petting your arm with his thumb and smiling at you with such love in his eyes, that you fell for him all over again.

“I’d love that,” he smiled in response.

And guess what? A year after that conversation you were actually married. And Joe made sure that everyone on the wedding reception knew he remembered about the conversation he had that day, when during a toast he mentioned how “nobody believed in you two, but for him it really could be the whole world against him, because he didn’t care as long as he has you by his side to support him through the roughest times,” and how “you were there for him even if nobody else was standing by him.” After that, you were always strong together, loving each other, and even produced a few newest members of the Mazzello clan.

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

junhui; you must be magical, because i've fallen under your spell

summary; there was something about gryffindors that unsettled him greatly.

pairing; slytherin!junhui x gryffindor fem!reader

genre/warnings: hp!au, yule ball!au, fluff!! jun’s a dumb boy

w/c; 2k

a/n; if it were possible to separate the masterpiece that is harry potter and jk rowling, we would. the only jk we stan in jeon jungkook but anyway!! this fic has been sitting in my drive for 3!! years!!! enjoy this belated bday present to our favorite golden bean. enjoy! please share if you like it

more in the SVT!hogwarts au: vernon, mingyu, jihoon

“No.”

“C’mon. Just be my partner, it’ll be totally wicked. We’re the best dancers on the team. We can even break heteronormativity if you wanna put it that way.”

“That’s not the point.” Minghao grumbled, throwing his dirty practice gear over his shoulder. “We told you to find a partner before the next practice. All you’ve done is complain to me about how awful everyone else is. Is there really not one girl or boy in Slytherin that you can partner up with?”

Junhui’s bark eyes glazed lazily over the pitch, as if there would be random students just lying around during early morning practice. The weather was definitively awful today, with depressingly muted grey clouds and no trace of the sun ever grazing its presence on campus. He rocked his bat back and forth, letting it bounce on his thigh as they exited the field and neared the viaduct. “There really isn’t,” he drolled, looking disinterested, “I hate all of them.”

“Awh c’mon, you really don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do. They’re awful.”

“But—”

“No. Please stop trying.”

Minghao took an abrupt turn at the end of the cobblestoned viaduct, in the team room where most of the members were off to their own devices. Team Hogwarts was doing relatively well in terms of team relationships, so far there were no petty fights over house competition because their school pride against other schools was currently taking precedence. Junhui was being petty, he knew it. But his pride was his mantle, and if that couldn’t hold him together, he might as well crash and burn down the pitch.

Minghao started to grumble unintelligibly under his breath, ripping off his blazer and shoving it to one side of his training bag. He looked visibly angry, and Junhui could understand that. Being on Team Hogwarts was stressful enough, and having a friend like him who was heatedly intolerable was just icing on the cake.

“I know someone who can be your partner,” Minghao finally said, looking away, “She can pick up dances quickly. But you gotta promise me you’ll be nice to her.”

“Me? Nice? I’m the nicest person you could possibly meet.” Junhui replied loftily, giving a lazy smirk as he relaxed against the bench. “I’ll treat her like a princess if she’s as good as a dancer as you claim she is.”

“Even if she’s a Gryffindor?”

“Even if she’s a—” his jaw dropped, and he sat straight, his aloof facade shattered just enough for him to sputter out of control. His beater’s bat slipped like butter from his grasp, causing it to echo throughout the room and multiple members to look at the pair strangely. He ignored all of them like a grain of sand. “Seriously? A Gryffindor?”

“I’m a Gryffindor. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying. It’s fine if pretty boy Chwe wants to go prance around with his stuffy bookworm, that’s expected. But when was the last time you saw a Gryffindor and Slytherin kill it on the dancefloor?”

“I’m taking a Gryffindor,” Jihoon said levelly, looking over them from the side of the bench. His posture was slumped, his hair windswept and his cheeks kissed with a strawberry red from the nippy weather. He was already in his school robes, tucking in the collar of his emerald knit so it would settle nicely. Running a hand through his sandy locks, he brushed up to them, taking no shame into walking into their conversation.

Jihoon had a tendency to flit in and out whenever he pleased, and for whatever reason people still liked Jihoon, something that irked Junhui incessantly. But he never dared to ask, considering Jihoon’s own brand of confidence was something to be desired. “But I also like this person a lot, I don’t care that she’s a Gryffindor. So just swallow your pride and be lucky that someone is willing to help you out, especially last minute.”

“Well,” Minghao looked away sheepishly, trying to save face, “she hasn’t exactly said yes yet. I haven’t even asked her, but there’s no reason why she wouldn’t say no.”

“Alright. Hopefully she says yes then.” Junhui finally said, giving Minghao a small smile. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving a firm squeeze. “Thank you.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jihoon give an inkling of a grin, before turning around and walking back.

“Thank you for giving people a chance.” Minghao replied genuinely, squeezing Junhui’s shoulders once before changing into his own robes.

Junhui was nervous. He was nervous and shy and worried that this was going to all be messed up and risk getting kicked off the team. Minghao told him once they entered the practice room, the Great Hall, that his partner would be a little late. It was understandable, it was a last minute thing and he could totally fault himself for that.

He had to play it cool, he had to. He already brought himself thus far, making it onto the team, and playing it off like it was no big deal. But it was work, all of it. Even the little things like this, dancing some five minute routine for the entire campus to see. There was nothing else he could hold onto at this point, everyone else was partnered up in the room (except Mingyu Kim, but no one else seemed to notice since he was never around) and now he was just left to fidget until you showed up.

“Where’s your partner, Junhui?” Soonyoung walked up to him, all up in his face, and Junhui fought the urge to push the co-captain back. Soonyoung was wearing Muggle athletic wear, the one with the strangely thin fabric and pants that were too loose at the top and fitted at the bottom. What did Soonyoung think they were, a Muggle boy band? “We’re about to start.”

“Oh well, she's—”

“Here! Sorry I'm late!” your voice echoed throughout the Great Hall, padding down the linoleum like wildfire. You, a young lady in gold and red dropped her things on one of the dining tables, and surprise surprise, you were dressed exactly like Soonyoung. Your body was a blur as you ripped off your robes, revealing a complete and utter lack of clothing that had Junhui’s gaze burn scarlet. Tight black shorts that ribboned across your thighs, and a white athletic t-shirt that had the same silky material as the Gryffindor captain.

Soonyoung’s face lit up like the morning sun, his face comparable to diamonds as you bounded up next to him. He made a show of it, putting his thumb and forefinger together as if he were taking a photograph of the pair. “Wait, seriously?” he balked, and Junhui grew annoyed at how delighted the hyper kid was being. “Oh Junhui you have the best partner.”

Junhui scrunched his nose, uncomfortable that Soonyoung wanted to be all chummy now that he was doing the right thing. Biting the inside of his lip, he turned to you, who offered him a small smile and an outstretch of a hand.

He blinked. Oh, you’re gorgeous.

And when he took her hand and gave a firm squeeze in reply, he could’ve sworn he felt you. That strange, red crackling fire that so many of them seemed to emanate like it was the newest trend, but it was all-encompassing and so definitively you, that he hated to admit he was aching for more. “I’m Junhui Wen.” he drawled, tilting his head to meet his cocoa eyes to yours.

“I know who you are,” you replied immediately, the subtle jab in your tone pinning him to the floor like it was a glass stake. There was an energy in your gaze, the curious light that was making Junhui spellbound. “We have a bunch of classes together. Divination? Alchemy? Muggle Studies?”

He could only stare at you, struck. His smirk from ten seconds ago descended in a downward spiral, realizing that wow, he had no comeback for that. It was downright a sin not to notice you all this time, and you were rightfully calling him out on it. Points to the Gryffindor, indeed.

Gryffindor’s always intimidated him, a secret only a select few has picked up on. His parents were good people, always telling him that confidence is key and he should strive to be more like them. So, he tried. He’s cocky, for sure. A little shit? Definitely. But it’s different when righteousness slaps in the face, a reminder that there’s goodness in his heart and a strive to do better.

Thankfully (the first and last time Junhui would ever be thankful to Soonyoung) practice had already started and you were late. He felt the grip of your small palm, and you smack his hand to your waist. Is it bad how much he thought how perfect it felt? How he wanted to hold you in his arms forever—

“At this rate,” you cut dryly, voice loud enough for only you two to hear, “we’ll be a centerpiece because you’re not moving a damn inch. Merlin, do you need me to lead?”

“Oh,” it’s only then Junhui realized that his friends were dancing circles around them, and he’s messed up the formation, “sorry.”

You two finally step into the piece, thankful that Junhui had quick reflexes. To his chagrin, you’re not too bad yourself. Despite the lightning on your tongue, you held yourself with grace, following him across the floor as if you were floating. Soonyoung was right, he did snatch up the best partner. He owes Minghao a barrel of butterbeer.

“Hey,” you hummed, voice blending wonderfully between the enchanted piano. “Minghao told me a little about you.”

“All good things, I’m hoping.”

You snorted, tilting your head so it brushed against his robes. “Maybe. Said that Gryffindors make you nervous.”

He scoffed, “No, that’s not true.”

“So, I don’t make you nervous?”

Whether Junhui said yes or no, he knew that both answers would be wrong. He could tell how much you knew, how easy it was to rile him up. Sweat was clinging to his palms, probably hot and sticky against your thin muggle t-shirt that clings deliciously to your waist (he takes it back, he takes it back! Muggle clothing is wonderful.)

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” he murmured, leaning over your form as he lets your body relax in a dip, “it’s not gonna work.”

Instead of entertaining his sudden accusation, you grabbed his robes, pulling him even closer even though the music stopped and people are listening to Soonyoung’s instructions for next class. “Where will you be picking me up?”

“What?”

“For the Yule ball. Jihoon is picking his date in front of our common room. You should come too.”

“Uh,” he completely forgot that having you as a dance partner coincided with the possibility of you being his date for the ball. He had the opportunity to be in your company for one whole night. Terror spiked in his form, because he realized that he couldn’t mess up this chance. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” he says, and you seem satisfied by his definitive answer.

You’re still playing with the hem of his robes, tracing your fingers along the Slytherin emblem. There’s no snark, no playful banter like you were expecting when Minghao prepared you for this. You’ll have fun with him.

“I’ll be wearing emerald, so you should think of matching my robes with yours,” and you smirk at him, tilting your head, “good thing I already know how handsome you look in green, Junnie.”

The last of his resolve crumbled like a piss-poor treacle tart.

Junhui’s besotted, attracted by your boldness and craving for more of your attention. The rest of your words were hazy, like he was swimming in the Gillyweed lagoon. Something about how he better not freeze up like he did before, otherwise he’d be hexed like the girl in The Red Shoes. Something about how you’re looking forward to seeing him. He’s drowned, unable to form a coherent reply when a friend comes from behind to snatch you up. They forced you to pack up so you’d get first dibs on tonight’s dinner.

You send him a wink before you’re forced out the door, and all he could do was wave dumbly.

“Knew you’d like her,” Minghao slid up to Junhui, punching him in the shoulder. The pain didn’t even register as Minghao continues to tease him, going so far as to pinch his golden skin. “Merlin, do you have a crush already?” he giggled, trying to shake the taller one back to reality.

No, Junhui was bewitched.

#svtcreations #thekpopnetwork #jun #jun fic #svt fic #wen junhui #junhui fic #svt fluff #jun fluff #jun fanfic #svt fanfic #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #this fic has finally seen the light of day #enjoy!

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yoontopia · 4 years

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𝟯𝟮. “𝗜𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂” | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader; genre: fluff, sort of idol!verse; words: 2.8k

warnings: none ; rating: G

Part of the ‘100 Ways to say I Love you’ drabbles

author’s note: had to throw the long hair and tattoos in there, i couldn’t stop myself

You lay in bed staring blankly up at the ceiling, head void of thoughts. You could smell the barbecued meat despite your closed bedroom door, the deliciousness wafting in and making your stomach grumble. You know you need to get dressed and head downstairs soon, but the exhaustion from the past week is settling in and you cannot bear to move.

You hear your mother calling for you and you shout back in response that yes! you’re coming, for the guests will start arriving soon. Being back home after almost five years of being away at university halfway across the world had your parents throwing a very informal barbecue for the neighbours living on your street. It had been about a week since your return and your parents had been so excited that they had been treating you like a prized possession. You wondered how long this treatment would last, before your mom would start shouting at you to carry out your shares of household chores.

Sitting up in your bed, you looked around your bedroom. You had grown up here, spent your childhood and teen years here, but had moved away at the ripe age of eighteen, and never looked back. Your room, therefore, had remained immortalized, peeling posters of whatever rock bands you’d been obsessed with stuck on the wall. A small desk stood under the window, stacked with your old textbooks, the wall next to it covered with taped photographs of you, your family, and your childhood friends.

Smiling slightly to yourself you got out of the bed and made your way to the photo wall, looking at each picture carefully. Most of the photos were of you and your best friend Jooyoung, who had moved away for university herself. While the two of you had headed your separate ways after high school, you’d kept in touch, often video calling each other and giving out life updates. Jooyoung, in your opinion, was your soulmate, someone who’d been there for you since day one, who knew you inside and out. You missed her terribly and were almost sad that she wouldn’t be here today. Unlike you, however, Jooyoung visited home often, attending university a mere three-hour drive away.

Your eyes travelled to the other photos, some of you with your parents, of your old cat whom you terribly missed, until your eyes landed on one particular picture, which had been crinkled with time. It was a photo of you and Jooyoung at a lemonade stand out on your driveway, accompanied by a skinny boy with a mop of dark hair falling over his forehead. You frowned slightly staring at the boy’s face, memories flooding in. That’s right, Jooyoung and you were part of an inseparable trio during your school years, the third leg of which was made up by one Jeon Jungkook. Nerdy and geeky and video-game obsessed, Jungkook had lived across the street from you and you and he had spent many years being attached at the hip. This was, however, one of the only photos you had left of him.

At the ripe young age of fifteen, Jungkook had moved to Seoul on his own, having been scouted by some entertainment company. You remembered laughing at him with Jooyoung when he’d told you what had happened and had warned him that he was about to get scammed. But it hadn’t been a scam, and Jungkook had moved to Seoul and you’d never heard from him again. His emails had dwindled after a while, and once you’d moved away and gotten busy with your own life, you’d forgotten all about him. Your mother would occasionally give you updates over phone calls that he’d been training to be put into a group, that he’d debuted, that his group had gathered decent popularity in the country. Your mother had spoken with quiet pride, talking about Jungkook as though he was her own son. It made sense, you supposed, he’d been quite close with your parents, just like you’d been close with his.

You’d left Korea around the time he’d debuted and had never bothered to check his group out, partly due to not wanting unwanted memories to return. Jungkook had all but cut you and Jooyoung from his life and you needed no reminders of that fact. Their international popularity wasn’t very high, but if your mother was right, everybody in Korea with a working internet connection knew who they were. You supposed it was a flex, being a childhood friend to someone sort-of famous, but you doubted famous idol Jeon Jungkook even remembered you. You wondered if you’d even recognize him now, some seven years later. He was probably rich, and you were a struggling unemployed graduate moving back home to start your job search. Two completely different worlds. However, in your small, sleepy town full of fishermen and farmers, even famous Jeon Jungkook would have a hard time being recognized. This place was literally filled to the brim with the elderly.

Your mom calls for you again and you yell back that you’re coming. Walking over to your dresser you changed out of your sweatpants into jeans and a striped sweater. Shoving your feet into your bedroom slippers you took a deep breath before heading downstairs, pulling your bedroom door shut behind you.

You padded downstairs and joined your mother in the kitchen where she was busy setting plates.

“Need help?” you asked. Your mom smiled at you and handed you a bag of cutlery.

“Please put these out,” she said. “Forks in one cup knives in one cup.” You nodded and sat down on a stool near the kitchen island and began sorting the cutlery.

People were beginning to arrive, and you could hear them greeting your father who was busy cooking up a feast in the front yard barbecue.

“Where’s Seungwoon?” you asked, wondering where your little brother had gone off to. Your mother looked at the clock near the stove.

“I sent him to get some extra drinks. You kids will need drinks,” she let out a soft laugh. “I keep forgetting you kids are all basically adults now. I stocked juice yesterday, but I realized you’d probably need alcohol too, so I sent him to buy some.”

“You sent an eighteen-year-old kid on a booze run?” you snorted, and your mother laughed along.

“He was eager, so I put him up to it.” She said and you laughed. It felt nice, being back home, hearing your mother’s laugh in person.

“How many people did you invite anyway?” you asked, leaning to look outside. It was a bright sunny day, the sweltering August heat shining through the kitchen window.

“Not too many,” she said, putting some bread in the oven to warm. “The Sungs’ next door, Sooyeon and her husband are coming, although Jooyoung isn’t home, I’m afraid,” she looked over at you apologetically and you sighed. “She’s interning and working through the summer and couldn’t get the weekend off. They work her to the bone, but she really sticks to it. Let’s see… a couple more families that you probably don’t know, they’re new on the street, moved in three or so years ago. They don’t have any kids.”

“So there is nobody my age!” you said in surprise. “Seungwoon didn’t need to go get alcohol just for me and him mom, I can drink the juice.” Your mom laughed at your outburst and looked at you, hands on her hips.

“They Jeons’ are coming, and they have two fully grown kids who will need to be fed and watered,” You stopped sorting forks and looked up in mild shock. Your mom smiled knowingly. “Junghyun’s back for the weekend and I believe so is Jungkook,” she sighed as she said that. “Boy he must be a true Seoul child now – I wonder if our cheap countryside liquor and food is up to his current tastes, I haven’t seen him for years, unless its on TV of course.”

“So, you just want everything perfect because we’re having a minor celebrity over?” you asked glumly.

“Can you blame me?” she exclaimed. “You’ll see what I mean when they come, he’s different. People from Seoul are just different. I bet he drinks some fancy overseas brand of beer.”

“He’s not from Seoul,” you snapped. “He’s from here and if he looks down his fat nose at our country bumpkin ways, I’ll sit on him like I used to.”

“I’d like to see you try,” your mother grinned. “He’s had his growth spurts while yours seem to have forgotten you.”

“I’m short because grandma is short!” You exclaimed, but only half annoyed. Your mother laughed again and changed topics. The rest of the time was spent in you setting out plates in a pile and mixing the dressing into the salad and bringing out the napkins for people to grab. Your brother returned shortly after, and you helped him unload the soju and beer into the fridge. Then you resumed your seat at the kitchen island, scrolling through your phone while your mother had you taste everything to make sure it was edible.

“Stop fussing mom,” you said, at last. “Everything tastes good, and dad’s barbecue ribs are always a hit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just excited you’re back,” she sighed. “It’s nice to have some help in the kitchen like this, just us girls.” The two of you shared a smile. Just then, the doorbell rang. Your brother opened the door. You turned to see who it was, and a smile split on your face.

Jungkook’s mother came in first, holding a bottle of wine that she put down next to you. She gave you a big smile and you let out a little squeal and jumped up to give her a hug.

“Oh my! You have grown so much!” she said laughing, pulling you in for another hug. The two of you were so busy catching up that you almost didn’t notice a tall figure entering after his mother. When you looked up, you finally saw him, and you had to exercise great control to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

Because right there, talking quietly in the entrance to your house to your little brother, was Jeon Jungkook. You wouldn’t have recognized him off the street. He was tall, broad, wearing a well fitted black sweatshirt and black jeans that were ripped at the knees. A pair of expensive sunglasses were tucked into the front of his sweater. His hair was long, falling into his eyes, and curling around his ears, which had been pierced in multiple places. The silver of his hooped earrings shown every time he moved his head. You blinked – was that a tattoo peaking up from his sweater and curling around his neck?

Forcing yourself to turn your attention back to Mrs. Jeon, you laughed awkwardly at whatever she had been saying, only hearing half of it. Suddenly feeling small and awkward, you turned back to your phone and buried yourself in it. Jeon Jungkook had gone out and come back looking like a walking magazine cover and you still looked like you did at fifteen, only now with two degrees to your name. You tried to tune everything out as you scrolled twitter, hoping that you’d suddenly become invisible to everyone around you.

“Guk!” his mother called affectionately, and you bit your tongue trying not to curse out loud. “Look who’s here!” You heard him walk over, could smell the faint cologne as he approached his mother.

A soft voice said your name in mild surprise, and your chest constricted because you hardly recognized his voice either, which had deepened in the last seven years. You locked your phone hesitantly and turned in his direction, trying to meet his eyes.

Round brown eyes blinked back at you, containing the surprise that his voice also held. You gave him a small smile in greeting.

“Hey Jungkook, how’ve you been?” you asked, hating how meek your voice sounded.

“Kids, go upstairs,” your mom said from her spot at the stove, not bothering to even look up. You suspected she felt as small in Jungkook’s presence as you did. You sighed and got off your seat slowly and beckoned for Jungkook to follow you. He did.

Once in your room, you sat down on your bed and Jungkook awkwardly took a seat at your desk chair.

“So,” you started, letting the word drag out. “A singer, huh?”

The tips of his ears went red, to your surprise. You’d expected confidence, even cockiness. He rubbed the back of his neck almost shyly.

“You know?” he asked. You shrugged.

“My mom’s a fan,” you said truthfully, snorting. “I’ll be honest though; I’ve never checked out your music.”

“Ouch,” he said, and to your surprise, a look of genuine hurt crossed his face. But you blinked and it was gone. “How are you?”

“M’fine,” you said slowly. “It’s weird being back, but I’m getting used to it. I’m done university and now I gotta job hunt y’know.”

“Right,” he said, sounding impressed, and you didn’t know why. “What was your degree in?”

“Dual major in biochemistry and pharmaceuticals,” you said. His mouth opened and he looked genuinely stupefied.

“Woah that’s like, cool,” He said, and you let out a small laugh because he sounded genuine. “So, you’re like an academic.”

“Kinda?” you said. “It doesn’t feel any different though. I’m unemployed for now.”

“I always pictured you doing well at school and stuff,” he said, still sounding awed. “It’s a good look.”

“A good look?”

“Dunno, science? It’s a good look, it suits you. It looks good on you.” You blinked. Nobody had put it that way before.

“What? That’s such a weird thing to say,” you said huffing out a laugh. The tips of Jungkook’s ears went even redder.

“I’m just saying I always pictured you being successful,” he said softly. You frowned.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. He looked at you, head tilting in a heartbreakingly familiar way. “Who’s the more successful person in this room right now? Aren’t you like, a millionaire?”

“I only finished high school!” he told you and you gaped at him. “I never got to go to university, so I think it’s cool that you got out of here and did all that all on your own.” His sentence ended in a mumble. The two of you sat there in silence after that.

“Was it hard?” you asked after a while. He looked up at you in question. “Was it hard giving it all up?”

“Yeah… I guess,” he said. “But what part of life isn’t hard?”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah,” he said and this time there was no hesitation, which had you smiling. “I did miss all my friends though.”

“Like me,” you joked

“Like you.” He said simply, and the smile slipped from your face.

“You stopped keeping in touch,” you whispered.

“Keeping in touch made me sad,” he said quietly. “I was homesick a lot back then, and all I wanted to do was run away and be able to go to school with everyone again. Your emails and updates made me sad and homesick.”

“I’m sorry that’s not what I—” you started but he cut you off with a knowing smile.

“I know, but to a fifteen-year-old it felt like the end of the world.” You stared at him.

“Yes, but now you’re like… you,” you said at last, finally letting yourself sound impressed. “Don’t you have a gaggle of fangirls throwing themselves at you? I swear that’s what happens to good looking famous boys.”

“You think I’m good looking?” he asked, his bashful expression disappearing replaced by a small smirk. You swallowed but decided to play nonchalant.

“Have you looked at you?” you gestured at him and his smirk widened.

“You’re still so cute,” he said simply. Your cheeks suddenly felt a tad too warm. You were about to ask him what he meant by ‘still’ when you heard your mom calling you both down for drinks. You stood up.

“C’mon,” you said and walked to the door. When you looked back you saw Jungkook still stood near your desk, staring at the photos taped to the wall, a small smile playing on his face, his hand on a certain crinkled picture. “Guk.” The nickname slipped out accidentally.

He looked over at you, and you tried not to blush under his gaze. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this man was the same boy who beat your brother at every video game and who you used to sit on when he annoyed you and who you and Jooyoung had bribed into putting on a full face of his mother’s makeup at thirteen. But as he approached you, you couldn’t help but feeling that maybe he hadn’t changed all that much after all.

“Let’s go I’m hungry,” he said. “Hey, do you guys have any juice?”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #bts fanfic #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jjk #writing #jjk drabbles

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years

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Coming Home - Harry Styles One Shot

Request: Harry and Y/N grew up together and are pretty close friends. They both always had a bit of crush/feelings for the other, but never actually dated. But maybe now they’re older that changes?

Coming back home for any period of time was always something you looked forward too. Waking up in your old childhood bedroom, helping your parents make breakfast or dinner, walking around at all the awesome hangout spots you spent your childhood days at, but most of all coming back home was your favorite when you were there the same time as your best friend, Harry Styles.

You and Harry were next door neighbors since you were about eight or nine. You thought he was annoying and he was, but he grew on you, and so did your friendship. As you both entered teen-hood, you started seeing your best friend as more than a friend, but you never told him of your feelings because one you weren’t exactly sure of them yourself and two you didn’t want to tell him only for him to say he didn’t feel the same way.

And of course, you didn’t really the chance anyway because eventually he auditioned for the X Factor and he was thrown into the world’s biggest band. Now, he was no longer apart of that band, but he was just as big as a solo artist. Despite all of this, you two still remained close friends, which also meant your feelings did as well.

But still, you never acted upon them. You knew Harry wasn’t shallow, but knowing who some of his ex girlfriends or at least girls he had dated previously, didn’t really give you a ton of confidence in pursing a relationship with him. It’s not that you didn’t think you were beautiful or good looking, but it was more the fact that they were famous and you weren’t.

Well, you weren’t technically famous. You were a well known blogger and photographer, but you weren’t making millions. You had started a blog when you were in university, it was mostly about books you were reading or had read, your favorite music, etc. But then when you decide University wasn’t for you, you took up learning more about photography, which is what really put you on the map.

You had arrived to your parent’s house while they were still at work. You ended up unpacking since you would be there for the next week. The weather was quite nice outside, so you decided to enjoy it. You grabbed your camera and headed out on a nice, leisurely walk. You had walked down to the pond that was near your house and started snapping photos along the way.

Of course, you had one of those modern, expensive cameras, but the camera you loved using the most was the vintage camera Harry had given you for your birthday a few years ago.

You loved coming to the pond because it was always private and you and Harry had plenty of picnics and chats while throwing rocks into the water. There were birds flying over the water and you quickly started snapping away. You were so wrapped up and focused on what you were doing, you hadn’t heard the crunching of leaves and sticks behind you.

In fact, you hadn’t realized someone was behind you until they poked your sides, causing you to whip around. Your hand stopped just a few centimeters from their cheek, when you realized it was Harry standing there with a smirk on his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snapped hitting his arm instead.

“Ow!” He groaned rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry.” He laughed.

You glared at him, “What are you even doing here?”

“Weeellll, aren’t we miss fucking rude?” He said. “Here I thought you’d be excited to see me.”

“I’d been more excited had you not snuck up on me like a fucking crazy person,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” he said opening his arms.

You rolled your eyes wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. He smiled kissing the top of your head.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be home?” You asked.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” he smiled. “I actually just pulled up and saw you making your way out here, so I followed you.”

“That literally sounds like something a stalker would do,” you said.

“Eh,” he shrugged.

“How long are you here for?” You asked.

“About two weeks,” he said. “It’ll be the last time I’m able to come home before tour starts. All the craziness for the starts soon, so I wanted to make sure I saw my Mum for a bit.”

“Always the Mummy’s boy,” you joked.

“Damn proud of it, too,” he smirked.

You shook your head with a laughed, “Anyway, I’m happy you’re here,” you smiled. “I have missed you.”

“What was that?” He smirked.

“Oh piss of,” you rolled your eyes. “You know you missed me, too.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he said.

You smirked unwrapping your arms from around him and sitting down on the ground, while Harry joins you.

“I never get tired of coming here,” you smiled.

“Me either,” he said. “Sometimes when I’m really stressed, I wish I could just come here for a bit, you know.”

“I do know,” you smiled. “But I do have to say, it’s weird coming here without you.”

“I agree,” he nodded.

A few moments of silence passed by, when Harry cleared his throat.

You looked over at him, curiously, “Something on your mind?”

He bit his lip and ran his hand through his hair, “There’s always something on my mind,” he laughed.

“You know what I mean smart ass,” you rolled your eyes.

“I want to tell you something,” he said.

You turned to face him, “I’m all ears,” you said.

“You are without a doubt my best friend,” he said. “One of the only people who has supported me and loved me and been there for me for ages. You’ve never looked at me different or treated me differently. I’m still just Harry to you.”

“Always,” you smiled. “You never have to worry about that.”

“I know,” he smiled taking your hand. “But there’s something I’ve been keeping from you since I was fourteen.”

“Oh god,” you said. “What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, “I’ve always, sort of, kinda, always had a crush on you,” he blushed.

Your mouth dropped as you looked at him, “Uh-what now?”

He groaned running his hand over his face, “I have feelings for you. I’ve always had.”

You hit his arm, “What the fuck, Harry!”

“Ow! What?” He whined. “Why are you always hitting me?”

“Because you’re annoying,” you groaned. “Why didn’t you ever say anything before now?”

“I don’t know,” he blushed. “I guess.. I was just worried it would ruin our friendship or something.... and I guess I would correct since your first reaction is to hit me.”

“Only because I’ve always had feelings for you, but never said anything because I never to the vibe that you liked me,” you groaned. “God, we could have been married with like three kids by now, had you said something earlier,” you joked.

“Wait? You’ve liked me this entire time, too?” He asked.

“Well, yeah,” you said.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” He asked.

You sighed looking down.

“Hey, you can tell me,” he said squeezing your hand.

“It’s just... it’s stupid really, but I was comparing myself to the girls you’ve been with in the past, and I didn’t think I could be in the running,” you admitted.

He sighed pulling you into his lap, “Why would you think that?”

“Because I’m a girl and it’s what we do,” you mumbled.

“Well, there’s no comparisons,” he said. “Because you’re beautiful, you’re amazing, you’re my best friend, you’re everything to me, etc, etc. I love you as my friend... and I’m pretty sure I love you as more than a friend, too.”

“Wow,” you whispered. “I uh. I was not expecting you to say that.”

“That makes two of us,” he whispered.

“So, what does this mean for us, now?” You asked.

“That depends,” he said. “On what you want it to mean.”

“Should we give this go though?” You asked. “Is the timing even right? You said it yourself you’re going on tour in a few months.”

“Y/N,” he said. “I’ve gone on how many tours in the past ten years and never once did we lose touch or go a day or two without talking. Why would that change this time?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Unless, you don’t want us to give it try,” he said.

“I didn’t say that,” you said. “But I am a little skeptical. What if this doesn’t work out behind us... would we still be able to be friends?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. “We were friends before, why would that change?”

“You’re right,” you sighed.

“What was that?” He smirked.

“Yeah, I’m not saying again,” you said.

“Aw, come on,” he smirked.

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” you said. “So, bugger off about it.”

He laughed, “So, then does this mean what I think it means?”

You turned to face him, “I guess it does,” you smiled. “Now, are you going to kiss me or what?”

He smiled bringing his hands up your cheeks before pressing his lips against yours.

Sooo... yeah... I’m not that happy with this update, but I don’t find it too terrible either. Hopefully you agree. Lol. Here’s to hoping I’ll be updating a little more now!

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles One Shots

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cityparkingusa · 3 years

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Best Places to Visit in Denver While Driving Around

Denver's outdoorsy vibe is best experienced on a city tour by car. Denver parking isn't going to be a big challenge. You can easily access several affordable and safe Denver parking lots and garages near the must-visit places in the city. From galleries, museums, and parks to eclectic eateries and shopping streets, there's so much to keep your day or two packed in the city of Denver.

Shop and Dine at Larimer Square

Larimer Street began west of Cherry Creek in Auraria before Denver City was founded in 1858. Since then, this historic block has served as the center of the city, and today it is on one of Denver's must-see spots. You will spend hours here, and not all of it is about gazing at well-preserved Victorian buildings or souvenir shopping. This commercial street is brimming with cafes and restaurants serving various cuisines – many of them come with outdoor seating to give you a lively downtown vibe. At night, the string lights twinkling above, and the live entertainment on the square will put you in a festive mood.

Parking in limited in this pedestrian-friendly area. It is recommended that you book a spot in one of the downtown Denver parking lots. You'll find cheaper Denver parking on Market Street and Tremont Place nearby.

Explore Flora and Art at the Denver Botanic Gardens

Spread over 24 acres of Cheesman Park in downtown Denver, Denver Botanic Gardens is home to exotic flora and outdoor sculptures. Over 50 landscapes at the garden, including a traditional Japanese garden and a South African plaza, welcome visitors every season. Touring art exhibitions and seasonal events are also held here year-round; the Summer Concert and the Christmas Lights display attract both locals and visitors alike. If you're here with friends and family or by yourself, expect to spend at least a few hours enjoying the gardens and capturing them in your cameras.

The main entrance to the gardens is at the Bonfils-Stanton Visitor Center on York Street. Denver parking lots near the Botanical Gardens can be found on University Boulevard and Josephine Street.

Get Up Close with Nature at the Denver Zoo

Primate Panorama, Tropical Discovery, Predator Ridge, Bear Mountain, Elephant Passage, and more exciting exhibits make this 80-acre zoological garden one of the most sought-after attractions. Over 600 species thrive in naturalistic enclosures at this zoo rather than in cages. The friendly zookeepers are always happy to help you get to know the animals better, particularly during feeding times. From penguins to elephants and everything in between, close encounters with nature will make sure you have a good time here, especially with children. Check out the nursery for a quick dose of cuteness from the baby animals. If you're visiting in the winter months, you can't afford to miss the 'Denver Zoo Lights' for a perfect night stroll under the festive lights!

Denver Zoo is a popular place to visit in Denver throughout the year. Finding a parking spot could be a hassle during peak hours. It's best to book a parking spot nearby — you'll find affordable Denver Parking lots around Park Avenue.

Play and Party at Red Rocks Park and Amphitheatre

The rugged sandstone surrounding this one-of-a-kind concert venue presents one of Denver's most mesmerizing visual treats. But that's not all! The park and its trails are nature's gifts to those who love working out in the open or even just enjoy the scenery. With fantastic views of the Rockies, the photographs here come out as nothing short of breathtaking, no matter where you pose. The amphitheater has hosted some of the greatest names in music — but no matter who the artist is, the excellent acoustics of the venue guarantees concertgoers a unique experience.

Red Rocks Park and Amphitheater are located about 16 miles west of downtown Denver, and the easiest way to get here is by car. However, it might not be easy to find a Denver parking spot during events. It is recommended that you reach the venue early for a hassle-free experience.

Check-in at the Denver International Airport (DIA)

Welcome to the largest airport in North America! With over 20 airlines providing non-stop flights to 215 destinations, there is a strong chance that you will visit the DIA at least once on your travels. The best way to spend your time here is to experience all the exciting facilities at the airport. Want to try the local flavors? Head over to the Denver central market. Shopping on your mind? The 2600 sq. ft. SkyMarket will take care of retail therapy. Make your way to the Native American Exhibition at the Jeppsen Terminal for a slice of Colorado culture. Don't forget to catch the breathtaking view of the Rockies by the C23 and C24 gates.

Denver Airport Parking is available at the East and West Parking Garages near Jeppsen Terminal and the East and West Economy Lots. You'll also find cheaper off-site DIA parking on Kittredge Street and Ouray Street in the vicinity.

Nature, art, culture, and cuisine — Denver has so much more to offer than just being a gateway to the Rockies. So, if you're passing the Colorado capital on your way to the ski slopes and hiking trails, take a day to visit and experience the unique attractions of America's Mile High city. WAY 47627 Lakeview Blvd Fremont, California 408-598-3338

#denver parking #parking in denver

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yeet-or-be-hawed · 5 years

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Hunters of Flesh and Money Part 5 Arthur Morgan x Reader

After being invited to work security detail at Bronte’s party, you aren’t expecting to see a familiar outlaw dressed to impress at the party.

Things are starting to heat up! This series has been such a joy and its making my heart full to finally get some romance going after the building slow burn!

Part 4

Master list

The sun had set the sky ablaze, leaving streaks of pink, orange, and red across the horizon. You inhaled deeply, taking the dry hot air into your lungs. It had been years since you were in New Austin and as you scanned the flat horizon, not much had changed. You liked that, back east it felt as if there were new buildings or houses or farms popping up on every corner. Civilization was pulled to an immediate halt when you crossed the West Elizabeth border into Hennigan’s Stead.

A pang of guilt prodded you, you told yourself you would bring Arthur next time you made the long journey west, but crossing a border is hard enough when there’s one bounty-crossing with another outlaw put you in twice as much danger, or atleast that’s what you told yourself. The deeper truth was you were ashamed. Your last encounter ended awkwardly to say the least and every letter you had attempted to write him since then has ended up in a crumpled ball on the floor. You sighed, perhaps he didn’t even remember, or maybe you were just drunk and over thinking it-what if he wasn’t even trying to kiss you? You had begun to think of Arthur as a close ally, there was no point in losing such a skilled gunman as a comrade. You swallowed you emotions and pulled out your camera; after a few failed attempts, you were able to hold the camera up and get a proper picture of yourself posing with the sunset. You frowned- your smile was too wide and it made your eyes look like they were closed, and damn, couldn’t you have chosen some cleaner clothes to wear? Your cheeks turned pink and you rolled your eyes, you had never once felt so self conscious of a picture before but the sun was setting quickly and you had already missed most of the day’s last light. You whistled for your horse- she was a strong mare and you took to her quicker than you thought though you still missed Garbanzo- though you’re western home was more preferable to your eastern counterpart it was much less friendlier at night. You spotted your horse as it raced across the valley, you took a step forward to meet her and a flash of purple caught your eye-desert sage. You bent over to pick the flower and stuck it in your satchel with the photo just as your horse trotted up beside you. You rode to the nearby post station and sat down with pen and paper beside an oil lamp.

Arthur,

I have to apologize, I wasn’t able to bring you with me this time but I hope these help bring back some pleasant memories. It’ll be a long ride from Tumbleweed back to the Heartlands, but I’ll send for you and Sadie when I return. Maybe we can get a few drinks-my treat. Wish you were here.

You stuck the sage and the phot in the envelope and sealed it tight. “One delivery please.”

“And who is to receive this parcel?” Said the post man.

“Tacitus Kilgore.”

He raised his brows and you had to stifle your chuckle. “Oh-Kay... anything else I can do for ya, Miss?”

“You got anything for a Marisol Fletcher?” You asked.

“One moment.” The man shuffled around the small booth and pulled out a single parcel. “Just one.”

You paid the man for your mail sat on a near by bench. The paper of the envelope felt thick-fancy. One look at the crest on the seal and you knew exactly who it was from.

Arthur wiped his brow as he dropped the haybale in front of the horses. His entire body felt sticky from the heavy humid air of Lemoyne. This was the last of his chores and he was making a beeline straight for his cool shaded room in Shady Belle when Hosea came around the corner. “Ah, there you are Arthur. Picked this up at the post office this morning.”

Arthur tipped his hat as he took the envelope from Hosea. He sat down on the old stairs of the porch as he opened the letter. Inside were a small folded letter, a photograph, and a dried flower. He thought the handwriting on the outside of the envelope was familiar, his hunch was confirmed when he spotted the F signed at the bottom of the page. The letter was short and sweet, and the last line made his chest tighten. Wish you were here.

He tried not to think about his blunder last time he saw you, it had been so long since he had heard from you he was beginning to think maybe he had offended you, so it was nice getting the letter. If you were all the way in Tumbleweed that would certainly explain your absence, that is one hell of a ride even by coach. He pulled out the picture and smiled, there you were beautiful as ever. Your smile was beaming, and though the sunset was meant to be the center of the photo, he couldn’t stop looking at you. He closed his eyes and just for a moment allowed himself to imagine being there with you-sitting on a rock talking and laughing, watching the sun fall behind the ridges. He imagined you smiling at him with that big toothy smile, it made his heart yearn so tenderly for the first time in years. He cleared his throat as his mind threw the image of you recoiling away from him for the millionth time. He groaned and pulled the dried flower out to inspect it. He looked it over and gave it a final sniff for confirmation- it was desert sage. It was actually in decent condition considering it had been through the post service which is known for not being the gentlest.

He lifted the flower to his nose as he stared at the picture, this was all he needed to remedy his home sickness- even if you would’ve asked him to go he would’ve declined. Even if he did manage to make it back alive Dutch would’ve killed him for being so reckless.

“Whatcha got there, Arthur?” He was pulled suddenly from his thoughts and jumped. Sadie laughed. “Well whatever it is must be important if you’re that focused on it.”

He cleared his throat and tried to hide the pink tone of his cheeks behind his hat. “Nothin’- just a letter from Fletcher.”

She snatched it out of his hands quicker than he could stop her, “and nothin’ fer me?”

“Now you just-“ Arthur stammered as he tried to snatch the letter and photo back from Sadie’s hands. She scanned it quickly and looked at the photo then back to him. He felt more heat rush to his cheeks as he couldn’t read the strange look on Sadie’s face. “Oh Arthur, you dog.” She giggled.

“What?” He grabbed back the letter and picture quickly. “Why you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“No reason,” she smirked. “I just had no idea you were such a ladies’ man, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur stuttered over his words, “I ain’t- this isn’t...it ain’t like that with her.”

Sadie took a seat beside him. “Well, what is it like then?”

“It’s...it’s like” he sighed and dropped his head. “I don’t know what it’s like, to be honest with ya.”

Sadie slapped Arthur’s back a little too hard pushing an oof from his lungs. “Sounds just like how me and Jake started out.” Arthur began to argue and she cut him off. “I ain’t insinuatin’ nothin’ just makin’ an observation.”

“Well keep yer observations to yerself.” He grumbled. He wouldn’t look at her, but Sadie could see the forced grumpy look on his face and the blush he was trying desperately to hide. She stood, “and tell that girl if she even thinks of writin’ to you without writin’ to me too she can expect to never have my cookin’ again.”

Arthur chuckled and waved to her as she left. With a stretch he stood and quickly headed to his room before anyone else question him or send him back out on a job. He gently placed the dried flower into his journal to properly press and he placed your photo with the rest of his collection.

Arthur tugged at his collar uncomfortably and Dutch smacked his hand away. “C’mon Arthur, it ain’t that bad.”

“You ain’t the one gettin’ choked by your own collar.” He looked out the window of the coach. “How much longer to the mayor’s house anyways?”

Hosea poured Arthur a glass of champagne and handed it to him. “We’re just about to cross into Saint Denis now, have a drink before we go in. It’ll loosen ya up.”

Arthur chugged the glass and Hosea poured him another. By the time the coach pulled up to the large manor, Arthur had a small buzz, just enough to relax and put on that lazy grin. He wasn’t paying much attention to the man leading them through the house as he was observing every door, hall, and window in the house. They were there for business, after all.

Bill and Hosea split off from him and Dutch, headed out to the party to find leads. Arthur followed Dutch as they were led to a balcony where they were greeted by Angelo Bronte and a small group of men Arthur did not recognize. He did not trust this man, something about him seemed to give the air of a snake in sheep’s clothing. He felt unnerved through the entire conversation, the men behind him seemed to corner them in and Dutch hardly noticed. Arthur puffed his cigar in an attempt to ease himself of the situation. Luckily for him, Dutch was the more social butterfly and took control of conversation while Arthur scanned the crowd below. He watched as Hosea and Bill swam through the crowd of people, being around so many people made him uneasy.

“...must return to the party with our friends.” Dutch jabbed Arthur in the side and grabbed his attention.

Angelo nodded and raised a glass to them. “Yes yes, go and enjoy the party.” He paused and gave them a suspicious look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, I’ve got eyes in places you wouldn’t imagine.”

Dutch laughed weakly, “yes, of course.”

“What the hell do you think he meant by that?” Arthur whispered as the descended the stairs.

“I have no idea.” Dutch responded. “Just be careful, and if something looks suspicious you get the hell outta there, got it?”

Arthur nodded. When they stepped out onto the patio, Bill and Hosea had already moved to join them.

“What’s the plan, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

“See what information you can find, about the bank, the trolly station, anything that you think will be useful. But be careful, I think our good friend Mr. Bronte is growing suspicious.” He paused, then turned to Hosea, “and no pick pocketing! We need to keep a low profile.”

Hosea nodded and blended into the crowd, Bill followed suit. Dutch turned to Arthur. “Now, I want you to find the mayor. See if he’s as incompetent as Mr. Bronte seems to think he is.”

Arthur nodded and put on his best smile as he wadded through the bog of Saint Denis’ Finest.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you looked over yourself in the bathroom mirror. The house was forbidden for guests, but you weren’t a normal guest. When Angelo wrote to you, he insisted you come to his ball at the mayor’s house- not as a guest but as security. Apparently some local gang of “greased up cow fuckers” were giving him touble. You and Angelo went way back, exchanging IOUs over the years and this time it was you who was in debt to him. Your job was simple- play the role of a high society lass and keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious. For who would suspect a beautiful young thing like you to be so dangerous? As he stated in his letter. But he was quite right in his gross assumption- no one looks twice at the high society women at these events, much less expects them to be under cover security.

When you exited the bathroom, you noticed a large figure turn the corner at the end of the hall and narrowed your eyes. You slowly peaked around the corner and your suspicions were confirmed. It seemed one of the house guests were ignoring the very explicit “no entering the house” rule and when he dug a lock pick from his pocket, you knew his intentions were not looking for the bathroom. Before turning the corner, you hitched your dress and pulled your pistol from the holster on your thigh. You had to fight the urge to groan, this damn dress was so poofy it was ridiculous to expect you to pull a gun at a moment’s notice. After adjusting yourself, you peaked around the corner and the man was still there. You approached behind him silently, and as he got closer you could distinguish his features. Broad shoulders, brown hair slicked back with pomade, he looked familiar but his beard was shaved almost completely away to nothing but a five o’clock shadow. You were right behind him now and you were quite certain it was him.

Arthur felt the lock click and smirked as the door opened in front of him. His victory was short lived, as soon as he took a step into the office he felt the muzzle of a gun on the back of his head. “Shit.” He whispered. Before he could turn around two hands forcefully pushed him through the threshold and the door closed behind him quickly. The room was completely dark and he couldn’t see a thing. He tensed for a fight, trying to listen for which direction his opponent would strike him for.

After shutting the door behind you, you turned on the lamp next to you and crossed your arms. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Arthur gaped in surprise. You were the last person he was expecting to see and he definitely never expected to see you like this. Your hair was pinned into a beautiful updo and the giant scar on your face was almost completely covered behind the makeup you were wearing. His cheeks flushed as he noticed your dress- your chest was almost completely bare, a wide dropping neck line that danced on the line between decency and decadence. The bodice of the dress held you snug, every curve of your body was accented and the deep crimson color of the dress played off your skin tone perfectly. Suddenly his mouth was dry and he had no words.

You were just as taken aback by him as he was of you. His three piece tuxedo hugged his chest tight you noticed as you followed him into the room that his pants did wonders for that ass of his too. His face was clean, any spec of dust had been thoroughly scrubbed away and his stubble revealed his scar on his chin a little more promptly. His jawline looked sharper and more square without the beard to soften it and his eyes were clear gleaming pools of cyan. He looked devastatingly handsome. He was the first to speak. “I thought there was a strict no gun rule here.”

“Yeah well, some of us get special clearance from Mr. Bronte.”

“How do you know Bronte?” Arthur felt his jealousy bubbling up again, is that why you were all dressed up? Surely you weren’t here with someone, sure as hell not that slimy eel. Could you?

“We been acquaintances for years now. I knew him back when he was just some slicked up Italian immigrant fresh off the boat. Ain’t too fond of the man he’s become, but it ain’t none a my business what he does. He asked me to help with some security detail. But what I’m doin’ here ain’t important, what are you doin‘ here?”

Arthur’s gaze moved to the floor. “Why? So you can tell ol’ Bronte what I’m doin’?”

You rolled your eyes. “Course not. I been bored this whole night till I saw you. I want to help.”

He raised his brow, “you sure? It could get you in trouble with Mr. Bronte.”

You barked a laugh, “I could care less. Now c’mon cowboy, whatcha lookin’ for?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “I heard the mayor talkin’ bout doin’ business with Leviticus Cornwall. Somethin’ bout some signed documents.”

“Okay,” you started. “First off, we’re in the wrong office. This is the mayor’s assistant’s office. The mayor’s office is just a little further down the hall.” You peaked out the door and the hallway was empty. “Follow me.”

The two of you snuck out of the office and you turned off the lamp and relocked the door behind you. Just down the hall, you stopped in front of a large mahogany door. Arthur felt a little dumb for not seeing this door as the obvious choice. “You still got that lock pick?” You asked.

He nodded and handed it to you. It had been years since you used one of these but after a little work the lock clinked and unlocked. The two of you stepped into the office and you locked the door behind you. “Okay,” you whispered. “All the important documents should be in that desk over there.”

Together the two of you went through all the drawers. There wasn’t much besides a money clip and some fine brandy, until you got the the bottom drawer on your side. “Arthur, come pick this real fast.”

Without a word Arthur flawlessly unlocked the drawer. Inside were all kinds of incriminating documents, Arthur dug through them until he found what he was looking for. He promptly stuffed them into his coat pocket and closed the drawer back gently and locked it.

“Got it” He whispered.

“Great, let’s-“ the click of the door unlocking alerted you and you grabbed Arthur and pushed him against the wall quickly. “Follow my lead.” Before he could process what was happening, you pulled his hands to your hips and your lips crashed against his.

Your cheeks were hot and you tried not to think about how tightly he pulled you close and the way his hands moved down to grip your ass. His lips were moving with yours now and his tongue was brushing against your lips in a hungry manner.

He couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him as your fingers entwined in his hair and gently pulled. When the door burst open the two of you pulled apart in false surprise. His arms remained clasped around you. “Oh my lord!” You gasped, almost a little too dramatically.

The chambermaid who walked in on you turned quite red in the face. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt but the house is off limits to guests.”

“Yes, of course” Arthur cleared his throat and took your hand in his. “Come on, darlin’.” As he led you out of the room he slipped the chambermaid a bill and gave her a devilish grin, “do me a favor and keep this between just us, okay?”

She averted her eyes quickly and shuffled into the room to slam the door behind you. Arthur led you back down the stairs to the party, but he was still clinging to your hand. Your face felt like it was on fire, the way his lips felt against yours was so much better than you imagined and the intensity of the kiss had you reeling.

When you didn’t immediately take your hand back, Arthur decided he wanted to hold it as long as possible. The kiss kept running through his head, the way your body felt against his, the silky material of your dress under his fingertips. It was hard to not imagine if he could’ve gone further. Of course you had no intention of taking it further as it was only a distraction but...his mind kept raking over how deeply you kissed him, the passion he felt as you pulled yourself around him. It couldn’t have just been nothing, could it? Arthur felt himself tense as he made his way back to the crowd. Anyone could be watching.

You put your spare hand on his back between his shoulder blades, “let’s dance.” You whispered. “We can get lost in the crowd, and if that maid is suspicious she’ll be watching us.”

“Okay,” He whispered. He led you to a spot where the crowd was thickest and wrapped his arms around your waist. It was the first time the two of you looked at eachother since the kiss. “I ain’t much of a dancer.”

You looped your arms around his neck, “neither am I.” The two of you swayed to the rhythm of the band, something about his face looked softer, more tender. His eyes were darting around uneasily, you took his cheek in your palm and gave him a smile. “Relax, youre at a party.” His stubble scratched against your palm but his cheek was so soft. When his eyes met yours it made your stomach leap to your throat. “I mean, act relaxed or uh, ya know, suspicious.”

He let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, I getcha.”

You swayed together in silence for a moment before you leaned your head against his chest. He prayed you couldn’t hear the way he heart sped up by the simplest touch.

“I’m sorry bout earlier,” You blurted out. “If that was too much.”

Arthur scoffed. Too much? He couldn’t get enough. Or atleast, that’s what he wanted to say. The fear of rejection made its way back to the fire front of his mind. “It weren’t nothin’. Don’t worry bout it.” He tried to swallow the lump that had formed so stubbornly in his throat. “You had any troubles with your trade routes since I last seen ya?”

You smiled against his chest. He was almost a whole head taller than you. “Nah, he was just the one. I never got ta thank ya properly after that. You really helped us out, I don’t know what woulda happened if you weren’t there.” You have a short laugh. “Well I do know, I’d be dead. So thank you Arthur.”

“You just let me know if anyone else starts givin’ ya trouble, ya here? I’ll make sure they never both let you again.” He cleared his throat as he scanned the surrounding area. No one seemed to be watching but he wasn’t trying to end the dance quite yet. “Told Trelawny bout our little escapade, he seemed quite surprised you needed help. I don’t rightly think he believed me.”

You smirked, “I ain’t never been one to ask for help, but I guess we make a damn good team.” Arthur took your hand and spun you, taking you by surprise. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a dancer.” You giggled.

When he pulled you back in, his arm looped around your lower waist and holding you close. “Don’t mean I don’t know a trick or two.”

His face was so close to yours now, and it didn’t feel so alarming this time. “Well Mr. Morgan, aren’t you just full of surprises?”

He responded with a dip, and when he brought you back up he smirked. “I guess you could say that.”

The song ended, and a livelier tune filled the air. The couples around you began to break apart and leave the dancefloor in search of conversation and refreshments. When you pulled apart, Arthur kept one hand on the small of your back as the two of you exited the dance floor. You caught two flutes of champagne and handed him one. “Say Arthur, you ain’t seen my new horse yet, have ya?”

He took a swig of champagne. “I haven’t.”

This time you took his hand and you had that same big toothy grin as you did in the photo and you led him away from the party and to the stables. You sipped on your glass as you walked. “I miss my big boy, but this girl is real beaut. I think you’ll like her.”

You led him to the third stall, where a beautiful silver dapple Fox Trotter was waiting patiently. “She’s gorgeous, what’s her name?” he exclaimed. gave her a pat on the nose and turned back to you. “Surprised you went with such a small horse, trading in size for speed, huh?”

“Her name is Ophelia.” You rolled your eyes. “She’s still bigger than your trick pony! But I will admit, it is pretty nice. I ain’t never had a horse fly like she does.” You scanned the stables for Arthur’s white horse. “Where’s yours? I would fancy ditchin’ this party for a good ol’ fashion race.”

“I rode in on a coach with a few of the boys, so no race tonight but I’ll hold ya to that one.” Fireworks were going off back at the party and he pulled out his pocket watch. It was getting late, Hosea and the others were probably looking for him. “I’m sure they’re probably wonderin’ where the hell I’m at.”

“Well let’s head back to the party.” You tugged at your dress. “I’m ready to get this damn thing off anyways.”

Arthur chuckled, “Same here. I ain’t cut out for this formal wear.”

“Amen.” You clinked your glass against his and downed the last bit of the champagne. You knocked your hip against his and he looked at you. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. I didn’t expect to have fun tonight.”

He smiled, “neither did I. Good thing you were here, I don’t think I woulda gotten so lucky earlier if you hadn’t-if it weren’t for you.” He hoped it was too dark for you too see the flush swelling in his cheeks.

When the two of you reached where the edge of the garden met the party, you stopped. “I guess I should retire for the night, I got a long ride back to camp.”

“Aw come on, it ain’t gettin’ that late.” He tried to sound more jovial than disappointed.

You rubbed your neck sheepishly. “Cripp’s has us set up just outside a Cumberland Forest, plus I gotta return this dress to Mr. Bronte.”

“Why don’t you stay with us for the night?” He blurted. Surely Dutch wouldn’t mind, he was certain Dutch would have had enough liquor by now he could convince him of just about anything. “In the mornin’ you can head back.”

“That’s sweet Arthur, but I gotta get back. Cripps has been by himself since I left for Tumbleweed and I’m sure he’ll have plenty of work for me to do tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

Maybe you had a few too many glasses of champagne, but in that moment, the two of you standing close holding each other’s gaze everything else seemed to fade away, just background noise. Neither knowing what to say, but not wanting to be the first to turn and leave. Your stomach was in knots, but the feeling of his lips on yours kept coming back to you, the sound of the guttural groan he made when you entwined your fingers in his hair. Was it him or the alcohol that was making you so light headed? He turned to back to the party and you acted without thinking. “Wait-” you grabbed his hand and he looked down at you hand and back to you, “I-I wanted to...”

When you squeezed his hand and looked at him with those pleading eyes he gulped. He was certain you were moving towards him now, and he moved in too. His hand was moving up to cup your cheek as your faces were inches apart when Bill’s voice boomed behind him. “Morgan! Morgan, is that you?”

The two of you froze and you looked away, your cheeks pink. “I’m gonna kill that man.” He grumbled.

You giggled and gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go. “It’s okay, I know you need to go.” You looked back to the large house. “I should go too. I had a wonderful time with you tonight.”

He sighed. “Me too.” When you turned to go he caught your hand. You turned back and he gingerly kissed the back of your hand. “Til next time.”

You smiled and waved back at him as you returned to the manor. “Until next time Mr. Morgan.”

His eyes followed you as you skirted the edge of the party to retreat to the house. Bill’s big hand caught his shoulder. “We been lookin’ for you all night!”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah well, you found me, happy?”

Bill scoffed. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here.” He led Arthur back to the stables, where Hosea and Dutch were waiting and ready to go with the coach. “Who was that anyways?”

“Who?” Arthur tried to sound nonchalant.

“Don’t play stupid, Morgan. That woman, that’s who.”

“A woman, eh?” Hosea piped in.

“Come on boys, Arthur can tell us on the road!” Dutch bellowed.

Arthur groaned and filed in the coach behind the others. He’d remind himself to kick Bill extra hard in the morning for this. The men grilled him the entire way home.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #hunters of flesh and money #arthur x oc #arthur morgan x oc #fluff #pining #slow burn #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdo #red dead online #red dead online oc #fletcher #things are getting spicy #and im living #van der linde gang

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Nineteen

Table of Contents or Part Eighteen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning(s): Language, mentions of drugs abuse, mentions of domestic violence

A/N: Tried to update last night but it kept telling me there was a problem uploading it and to try again later so now is later

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———————————————————————

"Shit." My hand shakes, holding the positive pregnancy test.

My mind races a mile a minute as I hear the bathroom door open and someone walks in with their feet dragging against the floor.

"Babe, c'mon!" Nikki slurs and I let out a breath and shove the test in to my jacket pocket as I pace the tiny stall.

"You're not supposed to be in here." I tell him as I step out to wash my hands at the sink.

"I missed you." He sounds like a child, his tone reaching a high pitch and I giggle as he comes up behind me and presses a sloppy line of kisses from my cheek to my neck.

"How much did you have to drink while I was gone?" I ask, and he chuckles drunkenly, grabbing my jaw to angle my lips to his before kissing me. When he pulls away he gives one more peck to my lips and tugs at my arm.

"C'mon, I've got something for you." He pulls me away from the sink.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before." I smartly reply as I turn off the water, shaking my hands dry due to the lack of paper towels as he pulls me from the ladies room.

"C'mon, c'mon," He rushes me.

"I'm coming, Nikki." I laugh and he throws his arm around me, making sure I help keep him from falling as he stumbles slightly in the direction he's leading me as my ears are nearly buzzing from the loud music in the strip joint.

When I look at where the guys are seated, I stop in my tracks, my mouth nearly falling to the floor.

Nikki starts chuckling, looking at me with raised brows.

"That's..." I trail off, completely out of words.

"Ratt." He finishes what I was going to say. "C'mon." He nudges me and I don't move at all, baffled and sickeningly nervous.

"I can't, I look disgusting!" I whisper yell, glancing around as a waiter passes us.

"You look hot." He argues, looking me up and down. "I'd fuck You."

"You'd have sex with a couch if you could angle your dick between the cushions." I rudely shoot back and he rolls his eyes.

"It's not like you're impressing them or anything. You're married to me anyway." He fluffs his hair carelessly, smiling at me.

"Can I just meet them later? I really just want to go to the hotel." I plead, my nerves getting the best of me for being put on the spot.

"Viv, I—"

"Please, baby?" I grab his hand with both of mine, holding it to my chest as if it's a dear possession of mine and he sighs and digs in his pocket with his free hand for the car keys.

"You're driving. Lemme go tell these fuckers bye'."

"You guys are like the seven deadly sins come to life and throwing anything they can get their fuckin' hands on at each other." Is how Fred Saunders, the band's head of security for their tours, described Nikki and I.

His job consisted of keeping us protected, even if it meant from each other.

He said that after he had separated us before we could start fist fighting, the both of us bleeding and bruised in multiple places due to having a "who can hit who with what the hardest" contest which resulted in liquor bottles, needle loaded syringes, shoes, hotel room dishes, and lamps, being hurled through the air at each other.

I didn't know what the hell else I was suppose to do after I turned on The Arsenio Hall Show just to see Vanity showing off my wedding ring—that I had presumed was just lost—claiming that she and Nikki were engaged.

I figured the freebase had officially fried the both of their brain's, and since she wasn't there in Texas where we were staying so I could include her in my outburst, Nikki just got enough of my wrath for the both of them when I found him in the neighboring room with Tommy, and attacked him like a rabid bitch.

I wasn't ever violent growing up, and although I had an outburst every now and then with Vince (because he is someone who knows exactly how to keep pushing at me until I snap) it wasn't ever my first response to just be on edge all the time and hit, cut, scratch, and punch people who got on my nerves; however, I got sick and tired of nobody listening to me.

I'd tell the dealers to "fuck off and stay fucked off"...they'd be back as soon as Nikki called. I'd tell the record company that the guys did not need to go back on the road because they were nearly spun out...they'd look me in the eye while printing out the schedule for the next leg of tour dates. I decided if I stopped being so patient and nice, and just started beating the ever loving fuck out of the people I considered partly to blame, shit would actually get done instead of just putting me on the back burner.

That was a toxic way of thinking, and I know it was, but you slap junkies when they won't wake up.

I suppose I was trying to slap everyone out of their own customized vice-induced comas.

The truth is Nikki's love for drugs, that grew more than his love for me or even himself, was the root of my resentment.

Every screaming match, every conniving thing done out of spite to one another, every affair, every bit of turmoil, all came back to his heroin addiction...which really kickstarted in 1984, when Robbin Crosby of the band Ratt—who did a handful of openings for Mötley Crüe during their last leg of the Shout At The Devil tour—taught him how to use needles.

I angrily stomp my heels down the pavement of the sidewalk as we step to our hotel entrance through the crowd of fans and photographers.

I'm completely out of it, having lost my patience a couple minutes ago when we were bombarded by reporters while leaving the club the guys practically drug me to after the show.

"Viv, I don't see the big fuckin' deal. We're married. We fuck. That's what we do. People know that's what we do." Nikki defends himself as the elevator dings, opening it's doors for all of us to go up to our room.

I don't say a word, rolling my jaw, not wanting to get into an argument with him and the guys wasted.

"It was a joke, Viv." Tommy adds innocently.

"It's not that fucking serious." Vince says next and I step out of the elevator once it stops at our floor. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're not talking to me now?" The blonde asks and I contain the urge to slap him sober.

I pluck the key from Nikki's hand and unlock the door, stepping inside to set my bag on the floor next to the bed closest to the window, hearing him shut the door behind him, roughly, while saying, “it’s not that serious, Viv.” I brush him off.

"Vivian!" Nikki raises his voice a little, catching my attention. "I’m talking to you, don’t fucking ignore me!”

"My sex life isn't the headline of a fucking run-down sleazy gossip magazine." I state pointedly, completely ignoring his comment about me ignoring him.

"It's called sex, drugs and rock n' roll for a reason, Viv, which means my sex life—a.k.a you—is and always will be the headline of a fucking run-down sleazy gossip magazine. The more attention I get, the more attention the band gets and that's how we reach the fans."

"'I treat her like a lady, so she'll stay on her knees like a groupie'?" I quote what he told a bunch of slimy reporters when we left the club, and he blinks at me.

"Do you want me to go back out there and lie and tell them the wildest that we get is fucking in missionary at the foot of the bed instead of at the top?"

"That's not even the point."

"Well then what is the fucking point, Viv?!"

"I'm not a groupie, Nikki, I'm your wife!"

"Oh my God, you're really pussying out over a fucking joke?!"

"That was a shit thing to say, and you know it was, Nikki, although I can't say I'm surprised ever since you've started that shit you've been a bigger jackass than before!" I accuse him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" He yells, his pupils seemingly worse than they were before.

"Smoking your fucking heroin and snorting your coke, that's what the fuck I'm talking about!" I fly off the handle, standing on the tips of my toes to get in his face and he pushes me away from him roughly, causing me to stumble back and fall on to the floor with a loud thump.

He's about to walk away and leave, but I don't know when to leave a dead horse after I've beaten it enough.

The heel of my stiletto collides with the side of his leg roughly, opting him to groan out in pain from where I kicked him.

His hand is tightly around my ankle in two seconds, yanking me up like a cat by its scruff, all while I'm clawing at him.

I'm tossed on to the bed, his hands pinning my arms down as he gets between my legs, stopping my chance of kicking him off of me.

I don't fight back, the look in his eye actually scaring me, and I realize I took it way too far.

I don't know what the hell he's taken, but it's a lot different than how he usually is when he's fucked up.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself, Vivian. What the fuck I do, who the fuck I do it with, and when the fuck I do it, is none of your fucking business. I don't control you. You don't fucking control me. You're just embarrassing yourself, and me, when you try to." He warns me darkly, doing a complete 180 from how chipper and happy he was earlier tonight. "Got it?"

My eyes water, my lip shaking a little but I stop myself from crying to save myself the broken pride.

"Okay, Nikki." I agree, feeling guilty for hounding him about it.

He gets off of me and doesn't even give me a second glance before he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I was pregnant, terrified, off my Nardil, and projecting all of that onto him, while he was secretly mixing heroin with coke and shooting it to balance each other out.

He'd spend however long trying to correct and tweak his method of adding more coke to correct his drowsiness and adding more heroin to calm him down...but he would usually manage to over correct each time and he wigged out or nodded off...then he would get irritable and have shitty ups and downs with his mood in a matter of minutes.

I don't know where he went when he left that night, but me and Mick were the only two that fell asleep in the room. I never bothered asking Nikki where he stayed.

I probably don't want to know.

"Viv, c'mon, we gotta get up." Mick tells me, pulling me from my shitty sleep.

I'm exhausted from not being able to sleep barely at all until I saw the faint light of the sun starting to rise through the curtains of the hotel.

I groan, yawn and stretch, sitting up.

"What time is it?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes.

"Six o'clock. We gotta be on the bus by six-thirty." He informs me, getting out of his bed, putting his stuff back in his suitcase.

I wait for the sickness to kick in, it usually does a couple minutes after I've been awake, but it hasn't yet.

I go ahead and get up, throwing on a T-shirt and shorts, packing my suitcase quickly Incase I get distracted from puking my brains out.

Reaching down to pick up my purse, I notice the bruising around my ankle where Nikki grabbed me. I’m positive he has a bruise from where my heel nearly punctured him on his leg.

"You cry like a hit dog in your sleep." Mick tells me, interrupting my thoughts, as he zips his bag and I exhale and do the same, not answering right away.

"I cry like a hit dog when I'm awake. What's new?" I mumble, stepping to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Nikki's stuff is still all in here, so when I'm done brushing my teeth I gather his things and put them in his suitcase.

The sound of the key unlocking the door sounds, and I dart my eyes to the door, hoping to see Nikki so I can apologize for last night.

I'm sorely disappointed.

"We're ready in the lobby." Doc tells me and Mick, grabbing Nikki's suitcase from where I put it beside the door.

I nod a little and grab my stuff and Mick and I follow him out of the room to the elevator to get to the lobby.

"Is he still mad at me?" I ask Doc and he sighs.

"He doesn't like handling you like that." He tells me, disappointment in his voice as he refers to Nikki putting his hands on me last night.

"I don't like doing it to him, either." I reply and he looks at me.

"Well, then you two just need to stop while you're ahead before it gets worse." He suggests and I don't say anything else, waiting for the doors to open once we get to the first floor.

I see Nikki, Vince, and Tommy, all wearing sunglasses to avoid making their hangovers worse, and no one says anything to me, and I don't say anything to them.

"Alright, come on." Doc ushers us to the door to get to the bus.

Our bags get packed in as we file in a line to get on, and just as I'm about to step up, I'm held back by someone holding at my wrist.

I think it's Tommy or Vince, stopping me to tell me something smart-assy or funny, but it's Nikki grabbing at me to keep his balance so he doesn't fall due to his delayed reaction time.

I look down at him, and he moves his hand from my wrist to completely engulf my hand with it, and relief is a dear friend to me.

I'm forgiven.

Once we sit down, he's positioning himself to lay his head on my lap and I put my hands in his fluffy hair, taking his glasses off of him when I know he's asleep so he doesn't mess the frame up, as we head to Memphis, Tennessee for the last show of the tour.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #douglas booth #colson baker #machine gun kelly #daniel webber #the dirt #the dirt movie #douglas booth!nikki sixx x oc

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

unfiltered [drake walker interview/his POV]

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @emichelle @dcbbw @katedrakeohd @burnsoslow @ibldw-main @moonlightgem7 @gardeningourmet @saivilo @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @pedudley @notoriouscs @mskaneko @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @sawyer0akleyscowboyhat

***************************************************

In total honesty, I said that I would never be interviewed by Duke Magazine again. A few months ago, I was interviewed by one of the their journalists who proceeded to insult me, make derogatory comments about my wife and generally just made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

I walked out of the interview.

Bad idea? Probably. The following article was negative. But after speaking to my wife, who encouraged me to ride through it, I felt proud that I stood up for my family.

I swore I wouldn't appear in a page of Duke Magazine again. So what changed?

The editor, who I actually respect, contacted me to ask if I wanted to write my own piece. 'Write about you,' Matthew said. 'Write honestly. Show yourself to the world as you want to be seen.'

So here we go. I'm sat in my study, my daughter Lily is playing on the floor as she keeps me company, and I have an empty word document on my laptop ready to be written.

This is me. Unfiltered, unedited, me.

The Restraining Order

I guess I should start by writing about the restraining order I obtained against the paparazzi. This is, to date, the most controversial thing I have done during my occupation as the Duke of Valtoria.

I can't believe it's even seen as controversial so I'm going to explain why I did it. Maybe then the critics can finally agree that I did the right thing.

Everyone knows I'm a family man. I want to keep my wife and children safe and this was under threat one year ago.

Camille was being stalked on a daily basis. Photographers would chase after her on the street and surround her car, which understandably terrified her. Camille always tries to put a brave face on things but I often saw the exhausted look on her face. I would offer to do something but she would shrug and say, 'This comes with the territory of being a Duke and Duchess.'

I went along with that until one day, a photographer took a picture of my five year old in the school playground and that was it for me.

To actively stalk a five year old child - hell, any child - is disgusting.

We always said we would raise our kids to have normal upbringings. Yes, they experience privilege on another level but we make sure that Lily is brought up to see everyone as equals. We want her to have a normal childhood.

When her face was plastered on the front page of the Cordonian Herald, she looked at it and asked, 'Daddy, why am I on the newspaper?'

Damn right I called the newspaper and demanded that circulation of that issue stop. They laughed and said there was no point, it was already out. So, I went one better and contacted the best lawyer in Cordonia.

There was outrage. The paparazzi argued that as we are public figures, we should expect to be photographed.

Two words for that: fuck you.

We may be public figures but we did not sign up to be stalked. My daughters did not come into this world asking for that kind of attention. We are the best Duke and Duchess we can be, in regards to charities and making a difference. We work fucking hard. Despite that, we are not duty bound to let photographers take our pictures, especially when its through the railings of my daughter's school playground. I refuse to even entertain the idea that Lily should be forced to have her picture taken because of who her parents are. She's a kid.

I've had criticism from people who ask why we still take part in magazine interviews yet have a restraining order against the paparazzi. I can see why it can be misleading but genuinely, we only take part in interviews if we have something to promote, like my mental health charity Mind Over Matter. My children will never grace the pages of Duke, Trend, Vogue or any other magazine because that's not the life I want for them. Simple.

Does it seem like I'm ranting to you? Sorry. This subject just gets me really riled up. I would delete everything I have just written but as I said at the start, this is me unedited and unfiltered. If you don't want to read anymore, by all means, turn the page.

I never said I was polite.

Ugh okay, sorry again. My wife would say that this was me being sassy. Mr Sassy Pants. That's one nickname she calls me. Along with Marshmallow.. We'll unpack all that later.

Camille

I get a shit ton of questions about my wife. I get it, she’s gorgeous, who wouldn’t want to know about her, right?

We’ve had our fair share of tabloid articles hinting at our ‘marriage being on the rocks’ or ‘trouble in paradise.’ Listen, don’t believe everything you read (apart from this piece obviously).

Camille and I have had our challenges in the past but what married couple hasn’t? Through it all, we’re a team. We’re Drake and Camille.

Asking her to marry me remains the best decision I ever made. In the Drake Walker Hall of Fame, that will go down in history. I proposed with my grandmother’s ring which is this beautiful blue square topaz. Grammy always told me to keep it for the right girl. ‘The right girl,’ she would tell me, ‘is the one who makes you forget all of those girls that came before her. She will light up your life and make you see how amazing life would be by her side.’

She was so fucking right.

Apologies if you think I swear too much by the way. I’m trying to kerb it - I really am, my daughters are like sponges and repeat everything we say. I have a swear jar and more euro than I’d like to admit goes into it..

I asked Camille to marry me because she made me feel all of those things. I used to be the loner at court; the nobody. I stayed in the shadows and hated my life. All I wanted was for someone to see me. The real Drake Walker. I wanted someone to look at me and want to get to know me.

Camille is the only woman who has done this.

I’m so proud of her. I think that’s a big deal, you know? You gotta feel proud of your partner. The way she learned about the nobility and Cordonia in such a short time is incredible. Looking at her now, when she’s so practiced at her speeches and so good with meeting the public, you wouldn’t think she was born a commoner. She has transcended all expectations.

I’m also proud of her as a mom. She’s such a good mom! Camille has always wanted a family and seeing her with our girls makes me heart feel full. I watch her play with them, help Lily with homework and read them stories and I just count my lucky stars. I don’t know what I did in a previous life to have this amazing partner but I won’t question it. As I said, I just count my lucky stars.

Lily and Luna

My girls. They may have both inherited their mother’s looks but damn it, they got my smirk.

Lily is five. She is the most colourful character and she’s mine. She is so girly. She often plays dress up and we watch her totter around the house in Camille’s high heels while carrying Camille’s handbag, shouting that she is going out for brunch. She is always laughing and she is a perfectionist; I’ve never met a kid her age who stays inside the lines when colouring in.

She is loving, so loving. When we told her she was going to have a little sister, at first she wasn’t happy. Ohh boy. I think she was scared she would lose us as parents to this new human and I made it my mission to help her see that having a sister wasn’t going to take us away from her. I told her that they could be a little team. Afterwards, Lily sat up beside Camille and rested her head on the baby bump, waiting for kicks. When the baby kicked, Lily was delighted. That’s the thing - you got to talk to your kids like they’re people. Don’t treat them like they won’t understand. I sat her down and talked to her about something serious and she listened and understood.

Now, she dotes on her baby sister. She always asks if she’s had enough milk. She will sit Luna on her lap while they watch Peppa Pig. Seeing her flourish in this role has been a joy to watch. I just hope that when they’re older they’ll keep being friends. I don’t think I could handle teenage screaming and doors slamming. Shudder. That’s something for Future Drake to worry about. Heh, sorry man.

Luna is one. She’s incredibly quiet, which at first was alarming as we were so used to Lily screaming non-stop as a baby, but when we thought about it, we were like: Having a quiet baby is the fucking best!

She is so observant, constantly looking around with her big brown eyes. I always wish I could see what’s going on inside her head. What are you thinking about, baby girl?

Family Man

Duke may be my official title and job but really, husband and father is the role I love and put above everything else. I guess it’s still a novelty to me? I never imagined myself ever having a family of my own. I assumed I would die alone. I’m Chandler Bing from Friends: ‘I’M GONNA DIE ALONE!’

But I didn’t, clearly. So I think that constantly trying to keep my girls happy is just me loving our little unit. I never saw myself getting married and having babies, so I just stay in the moment, enjoying it.

I take them on camping trips. I taught Lily how to make s’mores which she declared to be the best food she has ever tasted. I taught Camille how to pitch a tent (she’s a city girl, I had to keep reminding myself that). We’re yet to go camping with Luna but I figure wait a few years until it’s just easy. Baby steps.

One of my favourite things to do is take part in Lily’s tea parties. She puts a pink plastic tiara on my head and I sit down on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest at her tiny tea table. If we’re pushing the boat out, we have actual chocolate milk in the tea cups. Lily is a hostess like her mom. This is just training for when she holds dinner parties when she’s older and I hope I still get an invite.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a marshmallow when it comes to my family. I know I come across a little grumpy to some people, but seriously, get to know me and I’m a bit of a softie. I love a dad joke (‘I must ask you a question but I shall shave it for later!’) and I do enjoy a romcom sometimes but Jesus, don’t tell Camille or she will constantly be forcing me to watch How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days.

I’m the classic example of don’t judge a book by its cover. That’s the reason why I’m writing this piece.

Mind Over Matter

Mind Over Matter started as my mental health campaign which aimed to promote men’s mental health. I wanted to tackle toxic masculinity and I became the figurehead of the campaign. I suffered from depression growing up, as a consequence of my father dying and both my mom and sister leaving without warning. I felt worthless.

I even felt worthless when I became a Duke. Even though I was married to the most incredible woman and I had this new job, I felt like I didn’t deserve any of it. I doubted myself all the time. I constantly worried I was going to be found out.

I drank to numb the crippling anxiety.

Camille stuck with me throughout. She tried so hard to show that I was loved and that I was worthy of this life.

Eventually, I got help for my drinking. I go to AA meetings once a week in a bid to keep on the straight and narrow. My family keeps me motivated. But I realised that if, this guy with an amazing family and job, could feel worthless, how many more guys are out there who feel the same?

So I started MOM to make a difference. Me, my fellow nobles and men from all over Cordonia meet once a month to take part in outdoor activities like hiking, abseiling, kayaking etc. While we do all this stuff, we talk openly. We talk about our fears and our worries then we get ready to abseil down a cliff. It forces you to place your initial fears in a box, unpack it then jump off the edge. It’s mind over matter. That’s the whole point.

We Vlog our activities so anyone can watch what we’re doing and donate to mental health organisations. Now, MOM is a registered charity too, which is crazy, so all proceeds go on to make it a bigger thing. I want it to be the main mental health charity for Cordonia.

Did I ever imagine its success? No. But I’m so fucking proud of what MOM - what I, actually- have accomplished.

Friends

Magazines like to say that me and King Liam are no longer friends. Bullshit. We are. We just aren’t seen together as much because we’ve both got our own things going on. He’s the fucking King. I’m sorry but if I’m constantly wondering why he’s too busy to respond to my text message, then I need to get a grip. But I don’t do that because I’m his friend and we understand that no matter how much distance we have, everything will be exactly as it was when we next see each other.

I’m really good friends with Liam’s older brother, Leo. You wouldn’t think we would be because we’re so different but he’s a good guy. He’s fun and he has been a huge supporter of Mind Over Matter. Outdoor activities are already his jam so the fact that one of his friends was trying to make a difference made him really get behind it. Hiking with Leo cemented our friendship.

Leo goes out with Olivia Nevrakis. She is my kid’s godmother and despite how it looks on my Instagram, Olivia and I do get on! Best way to describe it is we have that kind of friendship where you act like you really want to stab each other but if one of you killed someone, the other would be there with a shovel saying, ‘Right, where do you want the body?’

Not that Olivia or I have ever killed someone. I mean, I know I haven’t but Olivia is known to love her daggers so I wouldn’t put it past her. LOVE YOU, LIV!

Future Plans

I’m content with having two children for now but hey, maybe in the future.. Never say never.

I plan on taking my girls to Texas to see my mom for Christmas. We usually spend all summer in Texas but this year, I’m hoping for an American Christmas. It’s just not the same in Cordonia. We’ve got our little traditions here but it would be nice to make some new ones with my mom.

Camille is going to be promoting a rehabilitation centre for addicts in the city centre next month and I will be supporting her the whole time. I’m her biggest cheerleader and she’s mine. This won’t be any different.

I’m excited. I have never felt so content before. A lot can happen in five years. Here’s to the next five. I’ll raise a glass of whiskey to future moments and welcome them with open arms.

This was me, unedited, unfiltered. I hope I didn’t bore you to tears or make you realise that I’m an asshole who swears too much. Sorry about that. I’ll pop a euro in the swear for ya. But by writing this piece, I hope I’ve shed light on who I actually am, not what some journalist with an agenda thinks of me. I’m not the best guy in the world and I will never claim to be. But I’m human and everyone has their own flaws. The best we can do is just work on them and be proud of who we are, no matter what.

Got to submit this now. Lily’s getting restless which means endless episodes of Peppa Pig now. You know what? This makes me happy.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr #trr fanfic #the royal romance

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

Good Enough b.h;Part 3

word count: 4.1k ish

warnings: fluffy, lots of grammar errors sorry, VERY TINY bit of angst

surprise! hope you enjoy this very fluffy chapter to make up for the last part. enjoy<3

also thank you so much for the support on this series. it’s my first one and means SO SO much to me. <3

figured i need to clear up that lucy IS in fact involved in the book(reader’s bestfriend), but she doesn’t play mary in borhap.

ONE MORE THING there’s a flashback in this chapter and it’s in italics just to let y’all know.

recap

Yet somehow, even after the most violent break up of your life, you had never felt so accepted and genuinely cared for in your entire life. Ben’s arm was now wrapped around your fatigued body, your head still on his shoulder, the TV in the dressing room was on, and you were surrounded by your new family. Strangely, you had never felt more wanted in all of your years of existence.

This feeling of comfort was just enough to lull you to sleep in the middle of the evening, sitting on an uncomfortable couch, slouched over and your neck already beginning to stiffen.

But somehow, through all of this, you managed to feel one overwhelming thing for the first time in your life; inner peace.

You really, really, hated being the damsel in distress.

It’s been your biggest pet peeve for as long as you could remember. Watching these big, multi-million dollar movies display a beautiful woman who was too weak-minded to save herself made you sick.

You’d always grimace in disgust at Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella because all of their problems suddenly were solved because some big strong man in shiny armor showed up.

Since then, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let that be you.

Granted, you knew you wouldn’t fall asleep for 100 years and be awoken by the kiss of an attractive prince, but you promised yourself you would never, EVER, become dependent on a man.

Not for money, happiness, sex, anything. You were going to be completely self-sufficient. This wasn’t to be mistaken for you swearing off men, because you loved men, but you needed to be sure that you could still be you even if you were involved in a relationship.

And that’s why Y/BF/N made you so fucking angry.

He made you break your promise to yourself. You swore that you wouldn’t let him complete you, that you wouldn’t need him.

But sitting here you started to realize just how much you yearned for him in your life.

You two had been distant the past few months, sure. But he was always there. Whether in person, over the phone, or his grip on your mentality. And now you were sitting here on this couch with your head on Ben’s shoulder pretending to be asleep when really, all you were doing was thinking with your eyes closed.

You suddenly didn’t have an all-seeing gaze resting over your shoulder every minute of the day. You didn’t have to deal with phone calls constantly asking where you were and who you were with.

But, the worst part is you felt empty and mindless. You didn’t know who you were. What did you wear when you didn’t have an omniscient gaze telling you ‘I think you should wear this dress.” What music did you like? You didn’t know after spending a lifetime turning on pop when you actually wanted to listen to rock, but you couldn’t because you knew he didn’t like it.

How did you like to do your makeup? What was your favorite color to wear? How did you like to do your hair when you didn’t think about having to please another human?

All very valid questions you had no fucking idea how to answer.

It’s exhausting not only worrying about being a functioning human, but also having to worry about the thoughts/feelings/emotional stability of another person you’re tied too in every way except physical.

This jumbled mess of thoughts was bumped from your head when you felt two very muscular and warm arms wrap around you to pick you up. You kept up your sleepy act, not paying much attention to the urgent whispering around you, presumably from Rami and Joe.

A large piece of fabric was thrown on top of you, and after a split-second peak, you could see it was Ben’s jacket. The brisk London air almost made you jump as it washed over your skin, and you felt goosebumps start to form on your arms.

Ben pulled you a little closer, whether it was for your own warmth or his, you didn’t know. After what felt like an eternity of walking in complete silence, he adjusted the way he was holding you so he could open what you assumed was your trailer door. He lightly closed the door with his foot, only to walk over and gently place you on your bed. He pulled the covers back and placed them over your still slightly shivering body, and turned to walk away.

You acted on impulse and grabbed his hand, his eyes whipping around in surprise.

“Stay.” you murmured, causing Ben’s arm to tense.

“Are you sure?” he spoke back, his voice barely audible. You glanced up at him with puffy, tired eyes.

“Don’t think it’s too good for me to be alone right now.” you croaked out, slightly louder. You could see his facial expression soften slightly.

“Alright. Let me go grab a pillow from my trailer and a blanket to set up on the floor-” he began, before you cut him off.

“Just lay with me. Please.”

You hated how whiny and desperate your voice sounded right now, but you needed someone to talk to and human contact more than anything in this world. And here was Ben, standing right in front of you in all his blonde haired, green-eyed glory, looking at you similar to the way he was a few weeks ago.

“Jesus Christ, if I had nuts they’d be frozen right now,” you murmured, running your hands up and down your arms.

“Y/N, come over here we want to get a few pictures with you!” Joe yelled at you from across the set. You put down your glass of hot cocoa and awkwardly jogged over to the tiny mattress the four of your cast mates were cuddling on, a fluffy red blanket covering them. The photographer was waiting expectantly to the side as you stared at the already full mattress.

Well… guess it’ll be warmer there then just standing off to the side with your hot chocolate.

“Mary needs to lay by Freddie, I’m presuming?” you giggled as you climbed over the mass of bodies. Freddie laughed and nodded in response. Or was it Rami? Sometimes you really couldn’t tell.

You clumsily clambered into the bed, in-between Rami and Joe as Gwilym mumbled something about only having one ass cheek on the mattress.

When you were finally situated, the photographer climbed on his step stool and started taking pictures of you all. Joe kept cracking jokes, causing all of you to laugh and simultaneously push Gwil off the bed. (He was beginning to get fed up with your bullshit)

Joe, Rami, and Gwil finally rolled off the mattress once the photographer was done, leaving you and Ben still under the covers. You spread out a bit, looking over at Ben.

“I think I might stay here. I’m freezing,” you said, pulling the fluffy blanket up to your chin as another wave of chills is sent down your spine.

“It is quite cold in here, innit?” Ben spoke soon after, mimicking you and pulling the comforter up further on his body. You chewed the bottom of your lip as you looked at Ben, realizing that you were still cold.

You could lay here, under this thin blanket and freeze, or make your way closer to the other human body who seems to be radiating warmth that’s within arm’s distance from you.

It wouldn’t be weird, would it? I mean, you and Ben were best friends, practically family. You didn’t want to overthink it. So, on impulse, you rolled over and found your body pushed flush up against Ben, causing him to flinch in surprise.

“Sorry. I’m just really, really, cold,” you said, curling up into Ben’s chest. You couldn’t see, but Ben’s face was as red as the blanket you two were laying under. He tried to compose himself, and slowly wrapped his arm around you and rubbed your exposed arms.

“Jesus, you are cold.” Ben laughed out, his voice soft and smooth like caramel. It sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t really differentiate where your shivers were coming from.

Ben was like a radiator, generating the heat you so desperately needed. And after finally warming up, you found yourself falling asleep in his arms on a mattress in the middle of a busy set.

And you didn’t know, but his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it all the way in the tips of his toes.

You looked up to meet the soft look of admiration and something else in his eyes, but he wiped the grin off his face quickly when he noticed you were looking. You put your head on Ben’s chest, and he comfortingly rubbed your back, humming along to some song you’d never heard before.

The combination of all this had lulled you to sleep without a second thought.

It felt like months ago when this happened, but it was only last week. You shuddered at how time was passing in a fucked up, slow but also vividly fast way on the set of this movie. It was hard to explain. And you were too tired to try to explain.

Looking up at Ben’s piercing green eyes soften as you pleaded with him to stay would’ve been enough to make your knees go weak if you were standing. Thank God you weren’t.

Ben still stood there, his heartbreaking as his mind grazed over the events of the past few hours. You had really been through it. And he definitely didn’t want to say no to you and make you more upset after breaking up with your boyfriend and all.

Not that he would’ve even considered saying no in the first place.

He never liked him. From the way you talked about him, to the damper he put on your mood when he called, Ben just hated him. And he didn’t have to see him to just know he was a piece of shit.

Like… come on. Ben thought you were one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen(but he hadn’t told you this, of course) and it outraged him that Y/BF/N had the nerve to treat you like you were disposable. Replaceable.

So, he knew he couldn’t leave. You were a fragile mess, mentally and physically. Both of you knew that the wrong tone of voice or too rough of touch would shatter you into a thousand tiny pieces for the second time today.

Ben walked around to the other side of the bed and slipped his shoes off, delicately placing them to the side as he slid under the sheets, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight of you trying to hold back tears again.

He moved up behind you, softly flipping you around to face him and he pulled you into his chest, allowing you to snuggle your face into his t-shirt. His long arms were wrapped around you, and the two of you couldn’t get closer than you were right at that moment.

You could smell the remnants of his last smoke break lingering on his shirt, and the smell of Ben that words couldn’t possibly describe, but it was just so authentically him. The tears that were leaking out of your eyes were making a wet spot, and if Ben couldn’t tell you were crying before, he could definitely tell now.

The two of you stayed like for a really long time. It was like you two needed each other in a really strange way. You were holding each other so desperately tight, trying to keep yourselves as close together as humanly possible. It was like you would be allergic to any space between you.

You’re not quite sure how long Ben had to sit there and watch you stir in agonizing pain, but it was for a long time. The sun had begun to send spots of light shooting across the dark sky, canceling out the bright white light of the moon.

It was laughable really, that you could compare yourself to the moon.

You had loved him a lot. So much so that you would extinguish yourself, water yourself down to allow him to shine. Just like the moon did every day for the sun at dawn. And you looked up at the bright white rock as she wistfully faded from existence and felt your consciousness start to fade as well.

The tears sliding down your cheeks littered with star-like freckles had ceased to exist, and Ben was lightly snoring above you, still holding you tight to stop you from breaking.

You lightly pulled your head back and admired the jawline of this blonde man laying in your bed, only memories of the galaxies in his eyes remaining in your head.

And you looked at him and wondered what would come of this. This. Whatever this was. Would he fade into the background of the other stars in the sky? Or perhaps become a new blinding sun?

You wanted nothing more than to run into his open arms and fall to pieces in his grasp but that would be going up against everything that you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do since you saw Cinderella for the first time.

You had already let one man uproot your entire existence, you didn’t want to make the same mistake again. (No matter how badly you wanted to)

You could only hope that tomorrow the dull ache in your chest would subside, and maybe you’d attempt to get everything that has to do with your life back on track. With one last look at the ball of light cuddling you to his chest, you let your heavy eyelids droop closed, pushing you into a deep, deep, sleep.

–

“Y/N? Love, wake up.”

You stirred gently, rubbing your eyes as you were slowly brought back to your senses. That had been one of the best but simultaneously worst sleeps you’ve ever had.

You finally opened your eyes enough to see Ben sitting cross-legged on the bad, eyes searching you with caution and worry, almost scared that you’ll break.

“Hi.” you croaked out, followed by a hoarse cough. You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your entire life.

“Here, drink some water it might help. You’re probably severely dehydrated.” Ben spoke. He sounded like an overbearing mom. But, you honestly didn’t mind it.

After downing the glass of water in silence, you finally looked up at Ben, and you could tell you looked like a mess. “Thank you for staying with me last night,” you felt your face flush red as you slowly remembered everything that took place, “I’m actually kind of embarrassed. I fell apart.” you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper. Ben’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you be embarrassed? That assho-” Ben began, before pausing slightly, “that man waltzed in here and treated you like the scum on the bottom of his shoe. You had every right to react the way you did.” He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands in his lap.

The sun pouring through the gaps in the curtains behind him made him literally look like an angel- like seriously. You can’t make this shit up. The sun was creeping over his silhouette, leaving a gap of it’s light on the floor in the shape of his shadow.

“I just got out of a relationship not too long ago and I don’t think I’d still be breathing if it was half as violent as yours was,” he said breathily, picking at the pieces of lint on his sweatpants.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s not your fault. It was hers.”

You were skeptical about what happened, but also too scared to ask. If his breakup hurt half as bad as yours did, that was definitely a wound you didn’t want to open back up. But it seemed Ben could read your mind.

“She told me one day that she didn’t love me anymore. And spent a grand 15 minutes explaining why. Telling me everything I did wrong, what she didn’t like about me, what about me was an inconvenience to her,” he swallowed thickly, the silence in the room seeming to swallow the sound coming from his mouth whole, “and just like that, ten years of my life were down the drain.”

Ten years. Took you a second to regain your train of thought at that. Your longest relationship was 2 years and it just ended. You couldn’t imagine pouring everything you had into another person for ten years just for it to end. You physically grimaced at the thought.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that,” you said, shattering the cloudy yet comfortable silence in the air yet again, “I can’t even imagine.”

“Yeah. Not the best experience of my life,” he sighed, and you could see the pain in the slight wrinkles on his forehead, “it’s what follows. The constant ‘what ifs’ and thinking about how inferior I am to everyone else, you know?”

You knew exactly what he meant. You nodded at his response quickly, cracking your neck as you tilted your head to the side. “It’s waking up every morning and wondering if you’re good enough.”

“Exactly.” he agreed, making a pointing gesture with his right hand, before continuing, “I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but I just wanted you to know I’ve been there. Not exactly- well- I mean- I haven’t been- you know-”

“Cheated on?” you finished sadly. He nodded slowly, studying your face.

“I just want you to know I’m here for you no matter what. I know we aren’t super close, but I have your back. You need me to go beat his ass? Give me a call. You need a shoulder to cry on? It must be your lucky day because I have two,” his speech made you giggle slightly, “I didn’t have anyone to help me deal with my breakup so if I could be any comfort, a confidant, whatever, I’d be glad to be there.”

You felt boiling hot tears well up in your eyes again, suddenly emotional at the idea that you weren’t as alone as you thought you were. You looked up to meet his eyes again and almost melted at the look on his face.

“Can I give you a hug?” you whimpered. A boyish grin slid its way onto his lips as he stood up, opening his arms. You practically threw yourself into his embrace, reveling in the way your face fit into his neck.

“Thank you for dropping everything for me. I know we aren’t extremely close either but… knowing I have someone is truly one of the most relieving feelings in the world.”

You could practically hear his smile.

Oddly, you took comfort in hearing the sad stories that Ben had previously kept hidden. After all, you were a writer, you took inspiration in people and stories and foundation’s of people and what made them tick.

You both sat there in completely comfortable silence, quietly enjoying just the company of another person who understands their pain, who knows what they’ve been through.

Ben momentarily glanced down at his phone, frowning as his eyes scanned a message on its fluorescent screen.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks as if we’re needed on set within the next ten minutes,” Ben spoke sheepishly.

You grimaced, the idea of human interaction and a long day of work was not the ideal choice for you right now. Nonetheless, Ben left and you were alone in your trailer once again.

Strangely, your heart was beginning to feel a little bit more whole than it did yesterday. Maybe a night of someone excluded from the situation was what you needed.

But looking in the mirror that day, you felt something in your stomach at the idea of going out to set and seeing Ben again.

You shook your head wildly as you brushed through your knotted hair. You couldn’t do this. To Ben, or yourself. This couldn’t be a rebound or whatever the hell it was called. Ben was too pretty, too sharply chiseled, too emotionally in tune. Too normal for you. He would never want to go after someone that traveled to hundreds of different countries and performed in skimpy costumes on stages in front of thousands of people. Would he?

As you locked your trailer door behind you that day, you slowly tried to push any and all emotions that were beginning to fester in the pits of your stomach far, far away. This was not the time, nor place for that.

Walking to set, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket to see 63 missed text messages from Lucy. Rami must’ve told her.

You quickly shot back a response, telling her to come down to set at 2, when you wrapped for the day, and you would meet for lunch and explain the whole thing. She agreed, and you felt your heart soar at the idea of spending the day with your best friend.

You stepped into the studio, already being swept into hair and makeup to start shooting again. You pushed everything that related to you inside, trying to step inside the brain of Mary again, just for a few hours.

Rami sat down beside you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “How you feeling?” he muttered his words quietly, as not to draw attention.

“Good. I think. Good as I can be for the moment.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.” the man joked, eliciting a playful eye roll out of you, “but really, are you good today? I could talk to the director-”

“Rami,” you spoke sternly, locking eyes with him, “I’m okay. I promise.”

You were okay. And if you weren’t okay now, you would be. And that was all the affirmation you needed to hear.

–

“I swear to god. I’m gonna kill him. I’m going to show up at his house at 2 in the morning, and kill him!”

“Luc, I appreciate the enthusiasm, really I do,” you bit your bottom lip as you spoke, “but I can’t have my best friend going to jail. I need your support.”

Lucy threw her head back in laughter, dipping one of her chicken nuggets in the shared cup of ranch between you two.

“I know I keep saying it, but you deserve so much better than that piece of dog shit, Y/N,” Lucy spoke yet again, munching thoughtfully on her fried piece of chicken.

“I know I know…” you hesitated slightly, not sure if you should tell her the other thing, “Lucy, there’s something else.”

She cocked her left eyebrow as she shoved a few french fries in her mouth. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“So I fell asleep on Ben’s shoulder after the whole ordeal and he carried me to his trailer and…” you trailed off, studying Lucy’s facial expression. She gasped so loud the couple sitting to the right of you stared at her disapprovingly.

She coughed, slightly choking on a french fry.

“You slept with Ben?!” she exclaimed in a sharp whisper. Your jaw fell open as your eyes widened.

“What? No, oh my god no. I asked him to stay with me and we kind of… um… cuddled?”

“Shut up. SHUT UP!”

“SHHHHHHH,” you laughed at your best friend who was about to bounce off the walls with her excitement, “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh yeah, you spending an entire night cuddling with the man you can’t stop talking about ‘isn’t a big deal.”

“It’s not! He was just making sure I was okay,” you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more. Lucy, or yourself.

“Mhm. Yeah. Definitely what it sounds like.”

You rolled your eyes at her, chomping down on a crunchy piece of lettuce in the salad in front of you. “Listen Y/N, all I’m saying is that Ben is a good guy. I’ve known him for a long time, and if you’re gonna take a gamble on anyone, it should be him.”

“Lucy, I told you I’m not dating anyone for the forseeable future. I got enough pain from the breakup yesterday to last me a lifetime.”

You physically shivered at the thought of yesterday, quickly trying to shove it out of your mind.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m here for you either way. I’ve got your back baby.” Lucy said, reaching over and grabbing your hand. You smiled at her. How did you get lucky enough to have such an amazing best friend?

“I think tonight calls for a face mask while watching shitty movies and eating even shittier food,” Lucy said nonchalantly, taking a sip from the sickly sweet bubble tea on the table.

“I agree.”

“So it’s settled!” she spoke giddily, clapping her hands in excitement, “Girls night!”

You couldn’t help but feel the same giddiness. After all, it was practically radiating off of her. Tonight would be good! A nice, calm night in with your favorite girl in the world and nothing could mess that up.

Or so you thought.

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

Text

THE DESERTFEST DIARIES: Destination Antwerp ‘19

~By Willem Verhappen~

Photographs by Stefanie Dörnbrack and Willem Verhappen

Day 1

The good beer, tasteful food and beautiful inner city, together with the fact that even though I live close to it, it makes me feel like I’m on vacation, make that Antwerp ranks high on my list of favorite cities. Every once in awhile my girlfriend and I like to spontaneously cross our southern border to go shopping (seriously, check out Chelsea Records if you're ever there) or watch a movie in their massive cinema complex. There is however one weekend when nothing can stop me from going to Antwerp and that's the weekend of Desertfest. For three days, Antwerp turns into the Mecca of all the music I -- and since you're reading this, probably you, too -- hold dear. So on the 18th of October I made my fourth pilgrimage to this epicenter of riffs.

My timing could hardly have been better, since my friends with whom I was going to share a hotel room for the next three nights showed up at pretty much the same time. After dropping our stuff at the hotel, we went downtown to meet up with some more friends and have a pizza and some beers.

With some proper groundwork laid, as we say in Dutch, it was time to head to the Trix, as the venue's called. There was some discussion as to whether it was faster to go by tram or subway, so we decided to turn it into a race. In the end, we still all ended up going by subway, since there didn't appear to be a tram going that way. I was told, however, that the subway was way quicker than the tram the guys took in previous years. That still counts as a victory in my eyes.

When we arrived at the venue, we were greeted by the sign shown at the top of this article. What a way to get your crowd hyped up for all the goodness that was to come.

The first band we got to see, was Monomyth. The band, featuring former Gorefest guitar player Boudewijn Bonebakker, plays an addictive mix of styles ranging from kraut- and space rock to more progressive and psychedelic exploits. The Dutch instrumental rockers might be reminiscent of acts like My Sleeping Karma, but with five people, there's never a boring moment.

After that first headbanging session, it was time for some more partying with desert rockers Nebula, where the title of their new album 'Holy Shit' sums up the experience quite well. This was followed by my first Duvel beer of the day and the Dutch '60s heavy psych inspired wolf pack named Temple Fang, both at the cafe. For a band that hasn't even released a single yet, they've got quite the following. Taking into account that two members used to be in the cult band Death Alley, gives some understanding as to why. Witnessing them live makes you a believer yourself.

As a music collector and lover of artwork, I decided to pay a visit to the merch area. I was very happy to see that my personal artwork favorites Branca Studio decided to take the car to bring some of their t-shirts to Desertfest. Now I finally have my very own "Doom life" shirt. Could my day get any better?

Of course it can! With some more cds and some less money in my pockets it was time to go to the main all for Truckfighters. When we walked through the door, one of my friends asked when the show had started. This was more than five minutes before the show actually started, but the hall was already crowded. This was the first time we had difficulties getting in before a band started playing, but it turned out to be only the first of multiple shows where this phenomenon occurred.

As you might know, Truckfighters was on a hiatus for a couple of years. Lucky for us, the Swedes have returned. I'm happy to say that the show hasn't really changed. You still get your high energy rock show lead by Ozo. Dango still runs through the crowd shirtless. There's still a different drummer than the last time you saw them. And of course, every place turns into absolute mayhem once they play Desert Cruiser. Honestly, the only thing that changed is Dango's beard. That's fine, but other than that, a Truckfighters show is perfect as it is.

Sadly, there wasn't much time to catch my breath, for after witnessing a bit of Beglian band 30,000 Monkies, Yatra was about to take the upstairs stage. I wasn't familiar with the Maryland doom crew, but someone (sorry, I don't remember who) recommended them to me. I cannot thank that person enough, for Yatra is by far my favorite discovery this Desertfest. It was the first doom band of the eveningThis trio spices up their low 'n' slow doom with a whiff of black metal dirt, just the way I like it.

Since I've never been much of a Zeal & Ardor fan, I decided to socialize and go looking for stories instead. That's when I ran into the Yatra gang, who were talking with Dango from Truckfighters. The latter mentioned to me that we can expect a solo record from his hand somewhere in the near future. Needless to say, this encounter needed to be documented, as shown in the picture above. Afterwards I decided to check out some Z&A, only to arrive when they started Devil is Fine. It was a good reminder of why I'm not a fan.

The first day ended with a banging show from Polish psych doomers Sunnata and a fun after party. I had to promise not to write about the after parties, even though I could write an entire article on just that. Let's just say that lots of fun and beer was had by all, up to the point where we were kicked out of the venue.

Day 2

Saturday started, not entirely unexpectedly, with a hangover. Usually I get over them pretty quick, but this one kept lingering on for quite some time. Not even the great sandwich I had, seemed to have any effect. The thing that eventually cured the hangover, was Bismut. The Desertfest website describes them as "instrumental psych desert metal", which is an apt description for these young Dutch hounds. We're treated to some heavy spaced out jams, mixed with some colorful shredding. Day two is a go!

The Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell put up one of my favorite shows this weekend. This is their second year in a row and third in total of playing here and if you've seen them live, you know why that is. The band are like the demented love child between MotÃ¶rhead and Hawkwind (like that would ever happen), blasting some dirty biker rock, but with some stoner groove in there. It's also the first band I witnessed on the Canyon stage that made full use of the video screen.

Not every band can be a winner and if there's a loser this weekend, it's Fireball Ministry. Personally, I really enjoyed their distinct brand of desert rock, featuring vocals from both guitarists James A. Rota II and Emily Burton. The only point of critique is that Emily should stick to background vocals.

Even though the band gave their everything, they we're playing to a half filled hall at most, with many people leaving after a song or two with some just taking a couple of pictures. These pictures were of course from former Kyuss bass player Scott Reeder. This behaviour made the band look more like a freak show than anything else, which is too bad, since Fireball Ministry deserves better.

The Desert stage is far more crowded for Church of Misery. I can't say I'm surprised, since the Japanese quartet knows how to deliver a solid slab of old school doom metal. For 50 minutes, the band proved to know exactly how to keep heads banging in unison.

Following Church of Misery, I decided it was time to give the muscles in my neck some rest. And what better place to do that than in the food and relax area. This is like the school yard where all the cool kids hang out, drink beer and smoke, but mixed with a food truck festival. I'm usually not big on festival food, but the food here is certainly an exception. From homemade fries and vegan burgers to Mexican and tribal food, there's something here for everyone. It's a great place to just sit down, eat and talk to random people.

This moment of peace was very much needed ahead of Bongripper. This was one of the most crowded shows of the festival. The band created a most impressive wall of sound, or should I say wall of noise, during their show. Although the show was very impressive, I'm still surprised by how insanely crowded it was.

After the intense show from the Chicago doom crew, desert rockers Steak are a welcome change of scenery. They might be from London, but these guys sound like they came straight from the California desert, although with some Pink Floyd thrown into the mix. I was very charmed by their sound, since it sounds familiar, but with a British twist. Highly enjoyable.

At the Desert stage, we remain in the instrumental musical spectrum with Pelican. This was one of the shows I looked forward to the most. The post-metal from these Americans manages to find that sweet spot between heavy dark riffs and a touch of light. The hour of playtime was over way too soon.

The other band I was really looking forward to, was Dopelord. I'm not sure what's happening in Poland that's causing the rise of so many good old school doom bands, as proven by Dopelord's recent excellent 4-way split with Weedpecker, Major Kong and Spaceslug, but it's clear these guys are leading the revolution. This show had everything I love: great songs, heavy riffs, exploitation cinema on the background and rowdy crowd. There even was a new song, called 'Hail Satan' and some moshing during the epic 'Reptile Sun'.

On my way to Ty Segall & The Freedom Band, I heard some music coming from the Vulture stage that caught my attention. Crowhurst was supposed to be performing here, but they had to cancel last minute. Their replacement were the Antwerp locals Your Highness.

Earlier that day, I was told they were a doom band and that I would like them. That turned out to be very true. The band plays traditional doom metal, but with a hardcore ferocity. I clearly wasn't the only one who enjoyed their show, judging by some of the most intense mosh pits I'd seen all weekend. I was so entertained that, for the first time in four years, I missed a Desertfest headliner. Not that I mind, these guys are worth it.

There's no rest for the wicked and Inter Arma made sure of that. The death/black.sludge doom band pretty much set the Canyon stage ablaze. It was past midnight but that was no excuse to take it slow. Vocalist Mike Paparo was running the stage like a ravenous beast. The band was a great warm-up for yet another night of mad partying.

Day 3

Usually the last day of a festival is somewhat of a cooling down. Festival days are long days and involve lots of walking and a lot of things to take in, resulting in you being exhausted, both physically and mentally. For this Desertfest, being tired was not an option, since the lineup is nothing but spectacular. Luckily for me, I woke up relatively fresh. I still don't know how I pulled that off, but I'm not complaining.

Since not everyone was as awake as I was, the first band we got to see was Wolvennest. I've seen the band perform many times in the past four years or so and I've yet to grow tired of their music. Their excellent mix of black metal, doom, psychedelic and krautrock still entrances me every show. And every show, they seem to get better. At least it helped me clear my mind in preparation for the rest of the day.

Wolvennest may have brought me to a higher plain, but after that it's a slap back to reality, courtesy of The Progerians. Their sludge mimics their hometown of Brussels. It's dark and nasty, but with just enough melody to make it appeal to the masses. This makes it a good warming up for the impressive set from Lord Dying, although they look towards more progressive and psychedelic horizons.

Monkey3 is one of those bands that always manage to deliver. Their instrumental space rock usually attracts quite the crowd and that was no different here. Sadly, nature called, resulting in me not being able to get back to the Desert stage. On the other hand, I did get to see High Reeper. These guys manage to play an energetic, balanced mix of stoner rock and Sabbath-y doom metal. A perfect blend of old school and new school.

The NOLA sludge kickers of Eyehategod are on a roll today. The band is clearly in a good mood and frontman Mike IX Williams is playing the crowd like a fiddle. The crowd, on their turn, is eating the slow, nasty blues raw. This was without a doubt my favorite show of the day.

After EHG I'm in doubt, stay where I am and be assured of a good spot for tonight's headliner, or go and see Un. I decide on the latter, even though many people seem to be saving their spots. I don't regret it though, since the Seattle band delivers some beautiful, heavy funeral doom. Especially fellow Seattle natives Bell Witch come to mind while riding Un's emotional roller coaster.

When I got back to the Desert stage, some 20 minutes before showtime, I was happy to see that it wasn't as crowded as I'd expected. I managed to get a nice spot in the center of the hall before the countdown started for the band all of Desertfest was clearly waiting for.

At a quarter to 11, the famous audio recording leading up to the moon landing started playing. What happened next felt like a ritual. Joints were lit across the audience, with some also being passed along through the crowd. People moved towards the stage like Muslims to the Ka'aba.

At 11, the almighty Sleep took the stage. Even though it was my fourth time seeing them in 15 months, the band still manages to impress me. All through the weekend, bands have been projecting everything from band logos to movies on the backdrop, but not Sleep.

Sleep doesn't need a backdrop. Nor a dynamic light show, for that matter. Sleep is all about the music. And the music is all that matters. Witnessing a Sleep show is like witnessing a voodoo ritual. The band's goal is to get you in a trance, to get you to follow the smoke to the riff filled land. For 75 minutes the music is all that matters.

Black Pyramid holds the thankless honour to close off the festival after Sleep. Their psychedelic brand of metal sounds good, but honestly, Sleep is still stuck in my head. Judging from the size of the crowd, many people have decided to head home early, but not us. We stayed until the bitter end.

On monday morning, to my great joy, the headache remained absent and I was feeling relatively fresh. I was looking forward to my own shower and couch, not necessarily in that order, so I was packed and ready to go in no time. My friends had some more difficulties to get their motor running, so we ended up getting brunch at one of the countless Panos sandwich bars in the city. Of course, we ran into some familiar faces there. Going over the weekend, we could all agree it was a festival with many highlights and next to no low points. Another one for the books. Why can't all festivals be like Desertfest? I'm not being melancholic, I'm seriously asking.

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imagineteamfreewill · 5 years

Text

Real

Title: Real

Pairing: Reader x Soldier!Dean

Word Count: 3,736

Warnings: Descriptions of war/armies, crying, deafness

Summary: You meet up with the stranger who showed up at the camp.

A/N: This is part two of the From the Dead series. For the sake of including more details, Dean was fighting in a fictitious location in the Middle East. This has no correlation with the beliefs of myself, the CW, and any of the actors/characters of Supernatural towards Middle Eastern countries/people. Please let me know what you think, and enjoy!

From the Dead Series Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

_______________

You were surprised to find Meg waiting for you in the office when you got back from your errands in town. She was sitting on the receptionist’s cluttered desk, her legs crossed as she thumbed through a home decorating magazine and munched on the leftover beignets that the camp chef had made as a treat for the girls the night before.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you set down the bags of food you’d bought for your own cooking endeavours. The camp’s food was okay, especially since you’d managed to hire an old restaurant chef, but you typically preferred to cook your own meals if you had the time. “Don’t you normally go on rounds before lunch?”

“And don’t you normally store your food in your cabin?” Meg replied, not looking up from her magazine.

You smiled a little at that. Meg’s sarcasm and easy responses still amused you, even three years later. What didn’t amuse you, however, was her blatant disrespect for many of the rules. The only reason you still kept her around was because she was good with the girls and she was good at keeping everyone safe. You had a feeling that if she hadn’t been so lucky as a kid, she would’ve ended up at a camp not so different than yours.

“I thought I told you not to leave your gun lying around.”

Meg sighed heavily at your pointed look and closed the magazine, tossing it back onto the pile beside her on the desk. She grabbed the shotgun from the other side of where she’d been sitting, then stood. “It’s not lying around now,” she said. “By the way, you’ve got a visitor. Says he’s an old friend.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “He give a name?”

Shaking her head, Meg stuffed her phone in her back pocket and shifted the shotgun to her other hand. “Nope. He’s ex-military though. I got a peek at his dog tags and everything, but I never got a name. He wouldn’t tell me, but he did mention that he was deaf in one ear. That ring any bells?”

It didn’t, and you watched in silence as Meg shrugged her response and walked out the front door. After another moment of watching her walk towards the main part of camp, you glanced down the hallway, steeling yourself for what was surely to come. You hated the military. Even though Dean had been more than happy to follow in his father’s footsteps, you’d quickly cut off any connection with the armed forces as soon as you could. They hadn’t attempted to reach out to you since Dean’s funeral, and you’d been quite happy with that arrangement.

Sighing, you headed to the tiny waiting room where Meg always stashed any camp visitors. When you reached the room, you stood just inside the doorway and asked, “Can I help you?”

The man, who had been staring at the framed photographs of the lake, turned around, and it felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Y/N,” he murmured.

You stared at him in shock, unable to breathe and at a complete loss for words.

“Y/N, it’s— It’s me. It’s Dean,” he said, stepping closer to you.

You stepped back, pressing yourself against the wall beside the door and covering your mouth with one hand. “This isn’t possible. You’re dead.”

“I’m not,” he answered, shaking his head and coming even closer. “I’m not dead. It was just a big mistake. I’m here, Y/N.”

A sob escaped you and you sank down into one of the white plastic chairs, covering your face with your hands. You felt Dean’s hand as he placed it on your back, but you quickly sat upright and pushed him away from you.

“Get away from me,” you sobbed. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

Dean knelt down at your feet, his green eyes so soft you thought your heart would burst. He’d changed so much since the last time you saw him over three years ago, but his eyes were still the same, even if they were a little sadder.

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m right here, and I’m alive. I can explain everything.”

Carefully, he took your hand in his and pulled it forward, placing it on his chest, directly over his heart. You couldn’t feel it beating from underneath all his layers, but the effect was all the same. You practically collapsed off the chair and into his lap. Dean wrapped his arms around you tightly, letting you cry as he buried his face in your hair and rocked you. You couldn’t see him, but his shoulders were shaking against you and the soft sobs reaching your ears told you that he was just as emotional as you were.

“I’m okay. I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m not going to leave you ever again.”

It took you a long while to calm down, but finally you got your senses about you and pushed Dean away, standing as you did so. He gave you a confused look when you moved away from his gentle touch.

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, then ran your hand through your hair as you tried to figure out how Dean had managed to survive and come back home after all this time. “They told me you died, Dean,” you finally said, gesturing helplessly. “I mean, we buried an empty casket because supposedly, you’d been—”

“Unrecoverable?” he finished.

You nodded slightly, looking pointedly at the spot above his head. You couldn’t meet his eyes, not now. If you did, you’d lose it all over again. You were still struggling to wrap your head around him being alive, and right now what you needed was the ability to think logically. Your heart was telling you that all you needed was to be in his arms, but you knew that you needed to stop and think about all of it for a moment. That was the only way you’d be able to get the full story before your mind was so jumbled with even more emotion than it was right now.

“You were gone for three years, Dean. Three years is a really long time. If you weren’t dead… What happened?”

“I can explain everything,” Dean soothed, reaching for you once more. “It was easier for everyone if you thought I was dead.”

You shook your head, unwilling to believe that, then wrapped your arms around your stomach and stepped just out of his reach. His hair was longer than you remembered and you stared at it until his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I would’ve come back if I could’ve,” Dean tried again. “There were people that needed me. I couldn’t leave them.”

“Oh, but you could leave your wife of five years? Your family? Your friends?” you snapped, anger bubbling up inside of you. You’d been so angry at the military for so many years, and now it felt as if you’d been angry at the wrong people. The way Dean was putting it, it was as if he hadn’t wanted to come back. What could’ve possibly made it so that thinking he’d died was better than knowing he’d really been alive the whole time?

Finally meeting his eyes, you slowly asked, “How is that easier, Dean?”

“It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like? Huh? What is it like? Explain it to me! Explain to me why you let your wife believe that you were dead for three whole years when you could’ve very easily come back to me when I needed you the most! You don’t know what I had to go through after they told me you died, Dean!

“I had to stand there and watch your mother cry. Your father, Dean. I had to watch the great John Winchester cry, and I couldn’t do anything about it! Sam was a mess, and I didn’t even know what to say to Jacob! How do you tell a little kid that his godfather died? He didn’t talk to anyone for four months, Dean! They had to take him to a therapist and he almost had to repeat the third grade because he did so poorly!

“And I—” You pointed to yourself, tears brimming your eyes. “I had to watch them lower the casket and shoot their guns and then I had to take the damn flag like it was going to make everything okay again! It didn’t, Dean! It didn’t, and I couldn’t stand living there and seeing your family and your friends every day. You broke my heart, Dean, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to be happy again. So just in case you still think that it was easier for me believing that you were dead, it wasn’t.”

As you spat out the very last word, your voice cracked. You took a shaky breath, looking away so you could try and force the tears in your eyes to go away. Once again you found yourself unable to look at him. You knew that you’d only see the immense hurt in his eyes, and you couldn’t deal with that. Not now.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. You could barely hear him over the A/C unit humming from its spot on the wall in the corner of the room and you swallowed thickly, looking down at your hands. “I promise I can explain everything, and if you can’t forgive me afterwards, then… then I’ll go. I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, Y/N. Just give me a chance, please.”

Closing your eyes, you pressed the heels of your hands against your eyelids for a moment. You loved Dean more than anything and you didn’t want him to leave, but right now you were hurt and confused. Part of you still wanted to think of this was just another weird dream. You hadn’t dreamed of Dean in a long time, but it was still possible. All you wanted was to be happy, but everything just felt so wrong.

“Fine,” you finally exhaled. “You can explain, and then we’ll figure out where to go from there. We’re not doing this here, though.”

When you finally opened your eyes and looked up at Dean, he was watching you with more fear in his eyes than you’d seen in a long time.

“Please let me explain, Y/N,” he pleaded.

“Dean, that’s… I said I would,” you told him, frowning. The instant relief on his face was almost overwhelming and you had to take another deep, shaky breath to try and steady yourself. “I have a cabin on the edge of the property. You can help me carry my groceries.”

He nodded in response and you walked out of the waiting room, heading towards where you’d left your bags. Dean followed close behind, and you could feel his eyes on you every step of the way. The two of you carried the groceries to your secluded cabin in silence, and once you’d finished putting everything away in your three little cabinets, you sat down across from him on the couch.

“Alright,” you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Explain.”

Dean took in a deep breath, rubbing his face with one hand before meeting your eyes. “You gotta know that I would’ve come back in a heartbeat if I could’ve, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft.

“But you didn’t.”

Three years was a long time to not be able to find a way back home, especially since the both of you knew that there was a large military presence where he had been stationed, and you couldn’t help but doubt him. After a moment, however, you realized that Dean had never given you a reason to doubt him before, and you quickly apologized and gestured for him to continue.

“We got attacked one day and it wasn’t good. It was the worst attack I’ve ever seen, baby. They were looking for something. I don’t know what, but I knew that the boys wouldn’t be able to make it out if someone didn’t do something, so I—”

“You sacrificed yourself,” you finished, watching him carefully. “You sacrificed yourself to save all your men.”

Dean nodded. “I don’t remember what happened after I jumped out of the humvee. They must’ve knocked me out or something. Next thing I knew, I was in a little house in this village—Khanhur—and I was surrounded by all these scruffy-looking kids. They crowded around me until this woman made them leave, and then she helped me sit up. She let me bathe and eat some of their food. She’d stashed all my gear underneath the bed where it couldn’t be seen, too. I don’t know how she managed to get all my stuff without the other soldiers seeing her. She even put some kind of medicine on my ear to try and get my hearing back. It turns out that some of the men in her village had seen the soldiers carting me off and saved my life. They knew I was American and they thought that maybe I could help their village.

“Her husband died saving me, and when I realized that the only person that would be able to help provide for her was her kid… I couldn’t leave, Y/N.”

Dean’s voice cracked and you felt tears prick your eyes. Of course he stayed to help the woman and her son. Your Dean believed in family, and you knew that he would never miss an opportunity to help someone. The two of you had always wanted kids of your own, but his career in the military had made that impossible. When he died, you’d not only grieved the loss of your husband, but of the family you never got to have.

“You have to understand that,” Dean was saying as you pushed away the thoughts of children and focused back in on him. “I had to help them. The kid wasn’t old enough to do all the work on his own. They needed my help.”

You didn’t look up at him, choosing instead to fiddle with the wedding ring you still put on every morning. At first it had been habit, but after several months you decided to wear it on purpose. You had wanted to stay connected to Dean in as many ways as possible, and though it was just a ring, it made you feel like you had a little part of him with you no matter where you went.

Dean stayed quiet for a minute before reaching out and taking your hand in his. You kept looking down, even though all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and never let go, but you knew that Dean needed to tell someone his whole story. If he didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t know how to help, and you would never fully understand what had happened during those three long years. You had questions that needed answers too, and being patient was the best way to get those answers.

“Their village was surrounded, Y/N. I would’ve left once they had some food stored up, but the soldiers threatened to kill the all the girls in the village if I tried to escape. I— I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t let so many people die because of me.”

Squeezing his hand, you whispered, “I would’ve done the same thing, Dean. It’s okay.”

“There wasn’t anything to send a message with in Khanhur or I would’ve tried to get help sooner, but finally, the American troops found out that I was there. They got through to me and once the other guys realized they were outnumbered, they surrendered. Our people said that they’d make sure the villagers were safe, so I went with them. They were going to tell someone here that I was alive but… I have a feeling you didn’t get that message,” he finished, running this thumb over the back of your hand.

You chuckled a little, looking up at him with teary eyes. “No, I didn’t.” You paused, watching him for a moment before saying, “You’re a good man, Dean. I hope you know that. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“You’re not angry?” he asked.

You shook your head and scooted into his lap, then cupped his face in both hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head near his shoulder as you whispered, “You saved so many people, Dean. I’m just glad you’re here. I’m so happy that I don’t think there are even words to say how happy I am.”

Dean slowly pulled you away and his eyes searched yours for a moment before he finally replied, “I didn’t hear a word you just said, sweetheart.”

You frowned and unwrapped your arms from around him. After a second, you remembered what Meg had said about Dean being deaf in one ear, and how he’d mentioned something about the woman in the village giving him medicine for it.

Slowly, you touched one hand to his ear and asked, “You’re deaf?”

Dean reached up and took your hand, moving it to the other side of his head. “This ear,” he answered. “I realized I couldn’t hear out of it when I woke up in the village.”

“Oh, Dean…”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he told you as you ran your finger over the shell of his ear. He shivered and you grinned.

“Sensitive?” you teased. Dean laughed in response and took your hand again, this time bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

The two of you sat in silence until the sun started to set, Dean’s arms around you and your head resting against his shoulder. It was hard to believe that all of this was real. He felt different now—firmer and tougher, and his voice was a lot different—but he was still your Dean, and you could barely wrap your head around the fact that he truly wasn’t dead.

“Dean?” you whispered. He didn’t respond until you reached up and tapped his collarbone, and then he tilted his head so he could hear you better. “I don’t want to go to sleep. What if you’re not here when I wake up? What if this is just a dream?”

“I’ll be here,” he promised.

“Even Dream Dean can promise that. It’s happened before.”

“You dreamt about me?” he asked, sounding surprised.

You looked up at him. “Didn’t you dream about me?”

“I didn’t sleep much, to be honest,” Dean sighed.

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest as he shifted against the pillows on your couch. “You can sleep now,” you told him with a small smile. “We’re safe here. The only person who would dare interrupt us is Meg, and she hasn’t had to come get me at night for a few months. The girls are settling in easier and easier nowadays.”

“The girls?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed and lines appeared on his forehead, making you chuckle.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb against his skin, prompting him to relax his face as you replied, “My campers. They’re… troubled girls. A lot of them were in gangs or caused problems because they’d been abused or had been through something traumatic. The state usually sends them here, and they leave once we think that they’re ready to go back into foster care. They’re sweet; they just need someone to let them know that it’s okay to express what they’re feeling, just not in the ways that they have been. I just wish that the system treated them as well as they deserve.”

Dean was smiling down at you now, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“What?”

He shook his head, eyes sparkling. Oh, how you’d missed those eyes!

Chuckling, you sat up slightly to look at him better. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I missed you so much,” Dean answered. He shifted you in his lap, then stood, holding you the same way he had when he carried you over the threshold of your first home eight years ago.

“Dean!” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck so you wouldn’t fall. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking my bride to bed, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Grinning, you shook your head at him, then used one hand to point to your bedroom when he looked around for it. “Over there, you dork,” you giggled. You didn’t protest, however, as he carried you into the room and kicked the door shut with his foot. He sat you down on the bed in silence.

“Are we sleeping tonight? Or did you have something else planned?” you asked, forcing yourself to keep your smile from turning sultry despite the coyness of your voice. If Dean wanted to sleep, you would simply sleep. He deserved it, and you were more than happy to spend the whole night doing nothing but cuddling.

Dean laughed and leaned down, caging you in with his arms before pressing a kiss to your lips. You hummed happily, slipping your arms up around his neck to deepen it. Seconds before you were going to guide him to sit on the bed with you, he pulled away, making you whine in protest. His green eyes were a little glazed and you couldn’t help but grin proudly when you saw the effect you were having on him.

“I’ve gotta shower, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I shower fast nowadays.”

“You’d better,” you teased, letting out a small, disappointed sigh. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Y/N, more than you can imagine,” Dean replied. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before slipping out of your grasp and heading into the bathroom. You watched him go, then laid back on your mattress and tried to process everything that had happened. Only earlier this afternoon you’d been thinking about how much you’d missed your husband, and now he was back. He was back, and so much had changed, but you had a feeling that it was all going to be okay again.

_______________

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Forever, Sam, Dean, Cas, Deaf!Reader, Words Series (Multiple Pairings/Characters), Home Series (Reader x Marine!Sam) - Unposted, From The Dead Series (Reader x Soldier!Dean), The Switch Series (Reader x Sam), Underworld Series (Reader x Gangster!Dean) - Unposted, Blog/Series Updates, and Drabble Days/Writing Events

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